Rehabilitation
by britgirl2003
Summary: A Kirsten fic. Kirsten hits rock bottom and Sandy has to take drastic steps to help her. Based on the spoilers for The Dearly Beloved and follows Kirsten's journey through rehab. Chapter 12 added. Kirsten starts talking about her relationship with San
1. The Dearly Beloved

**Disclaimer: I don't own The OC or its characters, etc.**

**Summary: Kirsten hits rock bottom and Sandy has to take drastic action to help her. The first chapter is based on the spoilers for The Dearly Beloved and will continue into multiple chapters.**

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Kirsten sat on the edge of the bed, her shoulders slumped and her head dropped. Her eyes were closed as she tried to get her head to stop spinning, but it wouldn't. Round and round and round, never stopping. She tried taking steady breaths, but it didn't help. Round and round and round.

"Kirsten?"

Sandy's voice invaded her head and she frowned, trying to block out everything around her.

"Kirsten?"

He was closer now and she felt the bed dip as he sat beside her; she felt his warm hand on her back, rubbing it slowly.

"Breathe, just breathe," he soothed.

She breathed deeper until it felt like her lungs would explode and let out a heavy sigh; his hand kept circling her back, trying to keep her calm. She leaned into him slightly and he let her rest her weight on him.

"How are you feeling?" Sandy asked gently.

Kirsten shook her head, words refusing to form. A single tear escaped from her eye and it trickled down her face, falling onto her hands that sat in her lap.

"The caterers are here to set up for the wake. Why don't you take a moment and then come down to the kitchen – make sure they're doing everything the way you want it," Sandy said.

Kirsten nodded and lifted her head as Sandy placed a kiss on her forehead. He smelt the alcohol on her breath immediately and closed his eyes, hiding the disappointment. He stood up and left quickly, leaving Kirsten alone. She sighed, knowing that he knew. Another tear fell and she cursed her own weakness. She lifted her purse that lay on the bed next to her and opened it, pulling out a bottle of vodka. In the days since _his_ death, alcohol had been her constant companion: it was there when she went to the hospital to see _his _lifeless body; it was there when she went to the funeral home to choose the coffin that _he _would be buried in; it was there when she went to _his _house to go through _his _belongings.

She unscrewed the lid and drank. The liquid burned her throat but she was used to it by now. She felt it run through her body, soaking into her blood. She swallowed another mouthful. It made her feel better; it helped her to block out the pain; it helped her to stop thinking. Another gulp and she put the bottle back into her bag for later. She would need more later.

She slid her feet into her shoes and stood up shakily. She wobbled before regaining her balance and took another deep breath. She walked slowly out of the bedroom and into the yard, inhaling the fresh air like a drug. She saw Seth and Ryan in the poolhouse and paused, watching them, until Ryan lifted his head and caught her eyes. Seth spun around and looked at her. And she saw it:

They knew.

Kirsten dropped her head, avoiding their gazes. She thought she had hidden it from them, saving her binges for the privacy of her bedroom or late at night when they were safe in their own bedrooms. She shuffled quickly into the house. It was full of people she didn't know. The smell of food made her stomach turn and she had to lean against the wall for support until the nausea passed.

The doorbell rang and Kirsten sighed. She was dreading today; seeing people, talking to them, pretending that she was coping, pretending that everything was ok. But she wasn't coping and everything wasn't ok. It rang again and Kirsten walked slowly but steadily up to the front door. She pulled it open.

"Hailey!"

Her younger sister smiled, before her face crumpled and tears started to fall. Kirsten stepped forward and wrapped her arms around her, hugging her tightly against her body. She refused to let her own tears fall, focussing her attention on her sister, whispering in her ear to soothe her. When the crying had stopped, Kirsten pulled back and smiled sadly at Hailey.

"I wasn't sure I was going to make it back on time," Hailey said, rubbing her tearstained cheeks.

"I'm glad you here," Kirsten said softly.

Hailey nodded. Kirsten wrapped an arm around her shoulders and led her into the kitchen where Sandy, Seth and Ryan had grouped together. They fell silent as she entered and her eyes flickered between them as she tried to guess the topic of their conversation.

"Hailey, how are you?" Sandy greeted her.

Hailey shrugged and accepted his embrace. Seth and Ryan followed Sandy's lead and hugged her comfortingly.

Kirsten felt her hands shaking and she hid them behind her body as she leant back against the kitchen island.

"How long until…until the cars get here?" Kirsten asked, her voice close to breaking as images of _his_ body cramped in a coffin haunted her mind.

"Another half an hour," Sandy said.

Kirsten nodded in response. "Ok, I'm, uh, I'm gonna go check on the caterers."

For the next thirty minutes, Kirsten busied herself with trivial chores to keep her mind occupied until _he_ arrived. When she knew she was alone, she would pull out the bottle of vodka from her purse and drink from it to cloud her mind. Every time she did, guilt would course through her body, but she drank anyway. Because it took the pain away.

She was rearranging the same bunch of flowers for the fourth time when _he_ arrived. She heard the doorbell ring; she heard the low murmur of voices; she heard Sandy's footsteps echo through the house as he came to find her; he heard his deep voice tell her that the cars were here and it was time to go. Clutching her bag, she took his outstretched hand and followed him outside.

She saw the coffin first and felt her stomach turn somersaults inside. She felt herself go into autopilot as Sandy led her into the car. The funeral was a blur as she played the dutiful mourning daughter. She accepted people's sympathy and shook their hands politely. She felt constantly under the spotlight, aware of the eyes that followed her around: Sandy, Seth, Ryan, Hailey, Jimmy. She wanted to escape, both physically and mentally. She longed for the comfortable surroundings of her own home, where she could drink herself into oblivion to get rid of the image of _him_ being lowered into the ground.

She was grateful when she finally felt Sandy's hand on her back, guiding her back to the car. She was silent on the way home, counting the minutes, the seconds, until she was home. Tick tock, tick tock, the clock inside her head sounded. The car pulled up in front of the house and Kirsten was quick to exit, heading straight for the kitchen. She pulled out a bottle of wine from the refrigerator, opening it expertly. By the time Sandy reached her, the first glass had already been emptied and she was pouring the second.

"Kirsten, what are you doing?" Sandy sighed.

Kirsten laughed bitterly. "I'm drowning my sorrows."

"Please, Kirsten, I know you're upset…"

"You're right, I am upset, so why don't you just leave me alone," Kirsten spat, stalking out of the kitchen and into the yard where she prepared to greet her guests.

Sandy sighed and rested his hands on the kitchen island, dropping his head.

"Sandy?" Jimmy's voice came into the kitchen.

Sandy looked up at his friend.

"She's not doing too good, huh?" Jimmy said.

Sandy shook his head.

"I'm sure she'll be ok, once today is over," Jimmy tried to reassure him.

"I'm afraid it's way past that now," Sandy said regretfully. "Have you seen Doctor Johnsson?"

"Uh, I think he pulled up just behind us," Jimmy answered, confused as Sandy disappeared out of the kitchen.

Outside, Kirsten stood at the side with the bottle of wine behind her. She spoke to those who dared to come up to her, noticing their frowns as she began to slur her words, but she didn't care any more. They all knew.

The day turned into early evening. Kirsten shuddered as, every now and again, gentle laughter would radiate over the yard, her mind becoming more and more fuzzy as the alcohol began to have the desired effect. When one bottle emptied, she replaced it with another, over and over again. When she was sick of the taste of wine, she went into the house to find the good stuff, the stuff _he_ would always drink when _he _visited.

She felt the glare of people's eyes on her as she stumbled back into the yard, carrying the delicate bottle in her hand.

"For God's sake, Kirsten, at least use a glass," Sandy grumbled, coming up to her.

He saw her trip and grabbed out to hold her arm.

"I'm fine," Kirsten pre-empted his question, reaching for a glass from the table.

"No, you're not. Just go to bed," Sandy snapped in her ear.

Kirsten felt him start to guide her across the yard and she pulled away angrily. "I said I'm fine. Let go of me."

"I'm not letting you do this," Sandy said, reaching for her again.

"GET YOUR HANDS OFF ME!" Kirsten screamed, flinging her arms violently so that the glass flew from her hand and shattered on the floor.

The sound echoed around the yard and Kirsten was aware that all eyes were on her.

"Are you happy?"

Sandy felt something inside of him snap. He slid one hand around her waist and with the other he snatched the bottle from her hands, putting it down on the table.

"Hey!"

As Kirsten reached for the bottle, Sandy pulled her away from the table.

"What are you doing? GET OFF ME!" Kirsten yelled at him.

Ignoring her cries, Sandy half carried, half dragged her across the yard. He was stronger than she was and resisted her struggling against him. He took her into their bedroom and slammed the door shut behind him, flinging her carefully onto the bed.

"WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?" Kirsten screamed angrily at him, pulling herself up off the bed.

"I'm trying to help you!" Sandy yelled back, standing in between Kirsten and the door to prevent her from leaving.

"Well, I don't need helping," Kirsten cried. "I'm fine!"

"Kirsten, look at yourself! You think this is 'fine'?" Sandy sighed.

"So I'm not allowed to be upset that my father died?" Kirsten asked.

"Kirsten, this was going on well before Caleb died and you know it," Sandy countered.

They heard footsteps coming up the steps from the house and turned to see Hailey and Jimmy entered the bedroom.

"Everything ok?" Hailey asked cautiously.

"Will you give us a minute, please?" Sandy asked.

"Sandy, what's going on?" Hailey probed, her eyes moving backwards and forwards between Sandy and Kirsten.

"_Please_, Hailey, will you just give us a minute?" Sandy said impatiently, ushering them out the door.

"Sandy?" Jimmy questioned.

Sandy placed a firm hand on Jimmy's back and pushed him out the door behind Hailey.

"Will you fetch Doctor Johnsson for me?" he asked under his breath.

Jimmy nodded and pulled a reluctant Hailey away from the bedroom. Sandy turned to see Kirsten pulling out the bottle of vodka from her purse.

"Kirsten, please!" Sandy cried. He grabbed the bottle from her hands and threw it behind him, hearing it smash against the wall.

"Sandy!"

"This stops, Kirsten. This stops right now," Sandy ordered. "Please, will you just talk to me?"

"_Talk_ to you? What do you want to talk _about_, Sandy? Let's talk about the boys leaving last summer, because they hate it here so much! Let's talk about Lindsey! Let's talk about _you_ and _Rebecca_ and the motel room! Let's talk about Carter! Let's talk about my father, dying alone and thinking that I hated him!"

Kirsten's voice cracked as tears started to fall down her cheeks and she wiped them away roughly.

"Kirsten, honey, Caleb knew you didn't hate him," Sandy tried to comfort her.

"You don't know that! No-one knows that!" Kirsten cried. "I _yelled _at him and _blamed _him and pushed him away! And now he's dead and he'll never know that I'm sorry. He'll never know that I take it all back."

Kirsten dropped onto the stool and the end of the bed, burying her face in her hands as she cried. Sandy moved quickly to her side, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her as close to him as possible. As much as he hated to see her cry, he was grateful that she was letting her emotions out this way instead of reaching for the bottle. He rocked her gently, trying to calm her, but her sobs only became louder and more violent.

The was a gentle knock on the door and Sandy looked up to see Jimmy, Hailey and Doctor Johnsson. He gestured for them to come in and nodded towards the doctor, who opened his briefcase and pulled out a syringe.

"Sandy? What's going on?" Hailey asked again, scared by the doctor.

Sandy looked sorrowfully towards Hailey as Doctor Johnsson walked slowly across the bedroom, kneeling down in front of Kirsten.

"Kirsten, honey, I need you to sit up for a moment, ok?" Sandy nudged her gently.

Kirsten sat up slightly, her sight blurred from the tears in her eyes, confused by the stranger's face in front of her.

"Kirsten? I'm going to give you something to help you sleep now," Doctor Johnsson said.

"What? Why?" Kirsten's voice was scared and she automatically reached for Sandy.

"It's ok, sweetheart, just do what the doctor says," Sandy said calmly.

"Why? What's he doing? Sandy, what's he doing? Tell him to stop!" Kirsten cried, struggling against the doctor's grip as he tried to stick the needle into her arm.

"Please, Kirsten, just calm down," Sandy tried to soothe her.

"No, I don't want it. Sandy, tell him to stop!"

In the corner of his eye, Sandy saw Hailey turn away from the scene in front of her and lean into Jimmy. He caught Jimmy's eyes, who was staring in shock at what was happening.

He turned back to Kirsten, holding her tighter as the doctor finally administered the drugs into her small body.

"Why are you doing this?" Kirsten cried feebly, falling into Sandy's body as she continued to cry.

Sandy held her until he felt her fall asleep in his arms. Carefully, he lifted her up and placed her onto the bed. He took her shoes off and pulled the blankets over her body.

"Thank you," he said, turning to Doctor Johnsson.

"I'll wait outside," the doctor nodded, aware of the confused expressions of Hailey and Jimmy.

"Sandy, will you please explain what is going on," Hailey pleaded as the doctor left them alone.

"Will you go get rid of all the guests?" Sandy asked wearily, ignoring her question.

"Sandy…"

"Please, just get rid of the guests and I'll explain everything, I promise," Sandy asked.

He waited until they left, before going over and sitting on the bed next to Kirsten's sleeping form. He brushed away the hair from her face. Her skin was pale and there were dark circles under her eyes. Faint wrinkles had started to form on her forehead. Even in her sleep, Sandy could see the sadness and pain in her face. He took her hand in his and watched her until he heard the house go quiet. He stood up carefully and brought the blanket up to her chin, leaning down to kiss her cheek.

He walked out the bedroom and towards the house. Jimmy, Hailey and Doctor Johnsson were waiting for him in the living room.

"Sandy, what's going on?" Jimmy asked as soon as he saw him.

Sandy sighed heavily. "Kirsten's…Kirsten's an alcoholic," he explained simply.

"No," Jimmy said, shaking his head. "I mean, sure, she's always like a drink or two, but an alcoholic?"

"Like mom," Hailey whispered, sinking into one of the chairs.

"Are you sure?" Jimmy said, shocked by the revelation.

Sandy nodded.

"What happens now?" Hailey asked.

"I'm gonna get her the help she needs," Sandy said determined. He looked over to Doctor Johnsson. "How long will she be out for?"

"A couple of hours, at least," Doctor Johnsson answered.

"What are you going to do?" Hailey asked.

"There's a alcohol rehab centre a couple of hours away," Sandy said.

"You're going to take her while she's asleep?" Jimmy asked. "Are you sure that's a good idea?"

"She won't go any other way," Sandy said.

"Are you sure you're not over-reacting?" Jimmy said. "I mean, is this really necessary? Why can't she get help here?"

"Don't you think I've tried?" Sandy said angrily. "Don't you think I've been trying to help her? You haven't been here, Jimmy, you don't know what's been going on. She's been struggling and I…I didn't see it. I didn't see it until it was too late. And now there's nothing I can do to help her."

Sandy's shoulders slumped in defeat.

From her chair, Hailey nodded. "You should take her tonight."

She stood up and embraced her brother-in-law and Sandy was grateful for her approval.

"What about the boys?" Hailey asked after Seth and Ryan. "Do they know?"

Sandy nodded. "They're out with the girls, something about Ryan's brother. Will you stay here while I'm gone and tell them I'll explain when I get home?"

"Of course," Hailey said.

"I'll call the centre now and warn them you're coming," Doctor Johnsson offered.

Sandy nodded. "Thank you. I'm gonna go and pack some of her things."

Sandy walked dejectedly up the hallway and back into the bedroom. Kirsten was sleeping as he had left her. He packed a bag quietly, making sure to include everything she might possibly want with her. Jimmy came into the room as he finished.

"I'm sorry, Sandy," he said simply.

Sandy nodded and handed the bag to Jimmy. "Will you put this in the car for me, please?"

Jimmy took the bag and watched as Sandy scooped Kirsten up in his arms. They walked silently down the hallway and out to the car, where Sandy placed her carefully along the backseat. Sandy climbed into the front seat and adjusted the rear view mirror so that Kirsten was in his eyesight.

He drove in silence, for once not blasting out show tunes from the stereo. It was an easy drive, down the freeway, and Sandy was grateful to concentrate on driving. Kirsten slept peacefully in the back of the car until they were only twenty minutes from the centre. Sandy heard her stir and his heart sank; he had been hoping to get her to the centre before she woke. She mumbled something under her breath, before sitting up.

"What's going on?"

"It's ok, honey," Sandy reassured her.

"Sandy?" Kirsten questioned, rubbing her temples. "Are we going somewhere?"

Sandy sighed, realising he couldn't lie to her. "I'm taking you to rehab."

He saw her eyes flare up in anger. "What?"

"Kirsten, please, stay calm…"

"Stop the car, Sandy," Kirsten ordered.

"Kirsten…"

"Stop the car!"

Sandy kept driving, ignoring her pleas.

"I SAID STOP THE DAMN CAR!" Kirsten screamed at him.

She reached over him to grab the steering wheel and they swerved slightly across the road.

"Ok, ok, I'm stopping," Sandy gave in and pulled over on a grass verge.

Kirsten got out of the car in a rage, slamming the door shut. She paced up and down as she waited for Sandy to emerge.

"WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?" Kirsten yelled at him when he finally came out of the car.

"Kirsten, you need help."

"You really think sending me away is gonna help me?" Kirsten asked.

"I'm not sending you away, Kirsten. These people, they can help you," Sandy argued.

"I don't need their help!" Kirsten cried. "God, you just don't get it do you?"

"No, YOU don't get it!" Sandy yelled back, his temper flaring. "You almost _died_, Kirsten. Don't you understand? I almost _lost_ you. Did you ever think about that? Do you ever think about _me _or _Seth _or _Ryan _when you pick up a bottle?"

Kirsten stood, shocked by Sandy's outburst, and she recoiled at his words. Sandy sighed and softened his tone.

"Kirsten, I love you and I'm not going to lose you. But I can't help you; these people can," Sandy said.

He walked over to the car and opened the door. "Will you please get back in the car?"

He waited for her reaction, unsure whether she would follow his instructions or run. He wouldn't have been surprised if she had chosen the second option, but he was relieved when she didn't. Sullenly, Kirsten got back into the car, his words still stinging her. She sat quietly as Sandy drove the rest of the way to the rehab centre, only a muffled sob escaping once in a while.

They arrived twenty minutes later. Kirsten had never felt so scared as she followed Sandy into the reception area.

"Hello, can I help you?" a woman greeted them.

"Uh, hi, my name's Sandy Cohen. I believe a Doctor Johnsson called you earlier to warn you we were coming? This is my wife, Kirsten," Sandy introduced them.

"Ah, yes, we've been expecting you. I'm Julia," the woman said.

They both looked over at Kirsten who was stood away from them slightly, her arms crossed defensively across her chest.

"Well, let's get you settled in," Julia offered.

Sandy moved to follow them, but Julia stopped him. "We can take it from here, thanks Mr Cohen."

Sandy nodded slowly. He moved towards Kirsten, who looked up with frightened eyes at him.

"Please don't do this, Sandy," she begged. "Please. I'll get help, I'll do whatever you want me to do. Please, just don't leave me here."

Sandy closed his eyes as tears threatened to fall. Kirsten clung to his jacket and Sandy gently put his hands over hers, pulling her off of him.

"I have to go."

"No, please, Sandy, don't go. Don't leave me here. Please, Sandy, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Please, Sandy," Kirsten cried.

Holding her hands in his, he kissed her forehead softly. "I love you."

Letting go, he turned and began to walk away from his wife.

"No! Please, Sandy, stop. Please, I'm sorry, please."

Kirsten stumbled towards him but Julia held her back. Sandy carried on walking, refusing to look back. He heard her sobs as he left the building and they stayed with him as he walked across to the car. They stayed with him as he drove home; they stayed with him as he explained to his sons what he had done; they stayed with him as he lay alone in his bed; and they haunted him in his dreams as he slept.

He hoped he had done the right thing.

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**Please tell me what you think! The rest of the story is going to focus on Kirsten in rehab, but I will be bringing Sandy, Seth and Ryan's thoughts into it at some point.**


	2. Rock Bottom

**Thank you SO much for all the reviews – I'm overwhelmed! How awesome was Kelly in the finale?**

**Here's the second part, I hope you like it. Please tell me what you think!**

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Kirsten rolled over in bed and flung her arm out, searching for Sandy, but all she found was a wall. She grunted and tried again, only to be met by the wall again. _That wasn't right; their bed wasn't next to a wall. _She opened her eyes and there it was: a cream wall. _Their bedroom was blue._

Panicking, Kirsten bolted upright and instantly regretted it when her head hurt. She cringed as her brain pounded inside her skull. Expand, retract, expand, retract; boom boom BOOM. She closed her eyes and waited for the worst to pass.

_'This must be a dream,'_ she thought. Any minute now, Sandy would wake her and she would be in her own bed, in her own room, in her own house.

She took a deep breath and cautiously opened her eyes again, finding herself in a strange room. She looked around her at the bare walls and the simple furniture. Her eyes fell to the ugly bed sheets and she looked down to find herself still dressed in her clothes from the day before. Her mourning clothes.

Kirsten closed her eyes as images flashed in her head: her father's dead body in the mortuary, his coffin being lowered into the ground. She remembered the comforting burning sensation of the vodka she had poured down her throat and her body shook as she craved the same feeling. Her memories turned hazy and she tried to remember how she had got here – wherever 'here' was. The car – she remembered waking up in the back of Sandy's car.

_"I'm taking you to rehab."_

Rehab.

Rehabilitation.

Kirsten Cohen, one of the most respected, most admired people in Newport, had been banished to rehab by her family.

Kirsten felt her stomach turn somersaults and she ran into the bathroom, reaching the toilet just in time as she threw up the contents of her stomach. Her whole body shook as she retched.

She needed a drink.

The bathroom door opened behind her and a woman appeared. Kirsten was sure she had seen her before – Janice? Jackie? She spotted her name badge – Julia.

"Feeling rough, huh?"

Kirsten shot her an incredulous look, at the same time gratefully accepting the bottle of water she offered.

"You're going to feel bad for the next few days while your body detoxifies itself. You'd better get used it."

Kirsten rolled her eyes. Was a little sympathy too much to ask for when she had her head down a toilet?

"Take your time, I'll wait for you in your room."

Julia closed the door behind her and Kirsten found herself alone again. Being alone was something Kirsten guessed she would have to get used to while she was here. There would be no kisses from Sandy, no quips from Seth, no bemused looks from Ryan.

When her stomach felt empty, Kirsten dragged herself up from the floor and wandered back into her room. Her suitcase was open on her bed and Julia was searching through it. Despite her weakened state, Kirsten felt anger flare up inside of her as she saw a stranger's hands on her belongings.

"Hey! What are you doing? That's my stuff!"

Kirsten put her hands out to stop her, but Julia was stronger and she pushed Kirsten away.

"I'm sorry, love, it's standard procedure. We have to check that you haven't smuggled in anything that you shouldn't have," Julia explained.

Kirsten grunted. "My husband packed my bag. I think it's safe to say it's clean."

Kirsten sat down on a chair in the corner of the room and watched as Julia methodically checked every compartment of her case, unrolling her clothes to check for hidden alcohol. Kirsten bent forwards and held her head in her hands, willing her head to stop hurting as much as it did. She wondered what it would take to get some aspirin in this place. She reached behind her and opened one of the windows, appreciating the light breeze that cooled her flushed skin.

Satisfied with her search, Julia turned and looked at the sorry form that was huddled in the corner.

"There are some rules and procedures that I need to go through with you. While you're here, you're expected to abide by them at all times. You will attend group therapy sessions where attendance is compulsory but participation is not. We obviously recommend that you join in with these group sessions, they're invaluable and you'll find a lot of support from the other patients here. But, we won't force you to do or say anything until _you're_ ready. You'll also attend one-on-one meetings with your designated counsellor where talking _is_ compulsory. Whether you're ready to admit it or not, you're here because you have an addiction and hiding it away, trying to pretend that it doesn't exist will not help. We hold motivational lectures every week where you'll hear from recovering addicts. Patients are encouraged to keep diaries. We don't believe in all the happy-clappy rubbish you see on the television – there will be no chanting, no singing, no group hugs. There are several recreational activities that you can do to keep yourself busy: art and music workshops, cooking classes, exercise classes, things like that. You are allowed anywhere on the grounds between 9am and 6pm; after 6pm you will be restricted to either your room or the common room. Visits from family and friends are allowed every Sunday between 12noon and 6pm, but you will not be allowed any visitors for your first two weeks. At no point are you allowed to leave these grounds. This is not a holiday camp – you're in rehab. It's not going to be easy, you're going to have bad days where you'll want to give up. It's up to you to find a way to keep going without reaching for a bottle, do you understand?"

Kirsten nodded, shell-shocked by all the information that she was trying to absorb. She closed her eyes, hoping that when she opened them she would see Sandy at the door, telling her it had all been a mistake and he was taking her home. But in her heart, she knew she was dreaming.

"Do you have any questions?"

"How long will I be here for?" Kirsten asked quietly.

"As long as it takes," Julia answered sympathetically, feeling sorry for the vulnerable figure in front of her. She walked over to Kirsten and crouched in front of her. "It's ok to be scared. Please believe me, we're here to help you – you just have to let us."

Kirsten nodded numbly.

"I'll be back in an hour to take you to meet your counsellor. You missed breakfast so I brought you something that should sit easily in your stomach," Julia said, gesturing to a tray that sat on the dresser on one side of the room. "You'll feel better after a shower."

Kirsten doubted that. Julia left and Kirsten wandered over to the pile of her clothes that were now scattered on her bed. Sandy had packed her most comfortable clothes. There would be no need for her expensive dresses and fancy shoes here. She started to fold her clothes neatly, putting them in the small wardrobe in her room. Something heavy fell out onto the bed: a photo frame. Kirsten picked it up and turned it over, finding herself confronted with a picture of herself surrounded by her husband and sons. It had been taken on the night of her 20th wedding anniversary at the surprise party they had thrown. Tears sprang up in her eyes as she replayed Sandy singing to her in her head, with Seth and Ryan laughing next to her. She could hear Sandy's whispers of _"I love you"_ in her ear as he had made love to her later than night.

She looked at each of their faces, smiling brightly for the camera. They looked happy, but Kirsten knew that, even then, cracks in her once perfect family had already started to form.

She closed her eyes as more tears started to fall, but as she did she saw Sandy's angry face yelling at her on the side of the road; she saw Seth's confused face and Ryan's sad eyes as they came in from a night out with the girls to find her sprawled out on the sofa, too drunk to drag herself to bed. Kirsten tried to clear her mind of the images but they haunted her. She felt her stomach turn again and rushed back to the bathroom.

She groaned as she retched, with nothing left in her stomach to bring up. Hanging her head sorrowfully, she glanced around the bathroom and caught sight of herself in a full-length mirror on one wall. Kirsten almost didn't recognise herself – her hair was straggly and knotted, her eyes were dull and lifeless, her skin was pale and her frame was frail from the weight she had lost recently.

She used to pride herself with her immaculate appearance, appreciating the glances that always welcomed her as she entered a room and loving the looks of pride on her family's faces as she turned heads in their direction. Kirsten stared sadly at the unfamiliar face looking back at her.

_What had she become?_

* * *

Julia was on time. Kirsten followed her nervously through the building. She wrung her hands, searching for her wedding rings that usually lived on her left hand. She had lost them in the accident and they still hadn't been replaced, and her finger felt naked without them. She tucked her hands into the pockets of her jeans to hide them as they trembled.

She looked around her as she walked down various corridors. The walls were the same colour cream as her bedroom and lined with noticeboards and the occasional picture.

"This is just a meet and greet session with your counsellor," Julia explained as they walked.

They passed a series of doors, each labelled with a doctor's name. Julia stopped outside the office of Doctor Jessica Halliwell and knocked on the door. Kirsten heard someone call _'Come in'_ and Julia gestured for Kirsten to go in. Kirsten followed obediently and found herself greeted by a woman around the same age, with cropped chestnut hair and big brown eyes, which were hidden behind thick-framed glasses.

"Kirsten Cohen?"

Kirsten nodded, finding herself unable to speak.

Dr Halliwell held out her hand and Kirsten shook it obediently.

"Come in and take a seat," Dr Halliwell said.

Kirsten looked around her, taking in her surroundings. The office was comfortable. Kirsten expected to see a psychiatrist's chair waiting for her to pour out all her troubles and woes, and was glad when all that was offered to her was a normal chair. She sat down stiffly, her hands tucked under her thighs, her ankles crossed and her back arched forwards. The doctor smiled softly as she sat down in her own chair on the other side of the desk.

"I know all this must be very overwhelming. How are you feeling today?"

Kirsten shrugged.

"Did they tell you that talking is compulsory at these sessions?"

Kirsten glared at her. Dr Halliwell raised her eyebrows, taken aback at how much Kirsten could say without actually speaking. She studied Kirsten's sullen face, noticing that she refused to meet her eyes.

"You know, there's only so much I can do. If you want help, you're going to have talk to me."

"Well, maybe I don't need your help," Kirsten said resentfully.

"You don't think you have a drinking problem?"

"I don't think I need a stranger to tell me how to lead my life," Kirsten spat, finally meeting the doctor's eyes.

"But that's not what your family thinks?" Dr Halliwell questioned.

Kirsten lowered her head, obviously affected by the mention of her family. Thoughts of Sandy, Seth and Ryan spun around in her head.

"My family think they know what's best for me. It doesn't mean I have to agree," Kirsten said.

"They obviously care very much about you."

Kirsten laughed bitterly. "Enough to send me away, you mean?"

"You think that they sent you away?"

"What else am I supposed to think?" Kirsten asked, softening slightly. "We've always been so good at dealing with problems ourselves. I mean, we've been through some hard times, but we've always got through them _together_."

Kirsten looked up and noticed the doctor watching her carefully. She shifted in her seat, building up her defences again and shaking away her vulnerability.

"I guess I was too much of embarrassment."

"Is that what you really think?" Dr Halliwell asked.

"Yes. No. I don't know," Kirsten stumbled.

She knew it wasn't true. Maybe for other husbands in Newport, but not Sandy. Sandy was different; it was one of the reasons she had fallen in love with him – he wasn't the same as anyone else she had ever known.

"Can I tell you what I think?" Dr Halliwell asked, leaning forward towards Kirsten.

Kirsten nodded slowly.

"I spoke to your husband this morning. I think he loves you very much. I think he wants to help you, but he doesn't know how and he's hoping that we do. I think he feels guilty. I think he's scared and confused, just like you."

Kirsten felt tears in the back of her eyes and she blinked them away. She ached for her husband's arms around her.

"Did he sound ok? Did he mention the boys?"

Dr Halliwell smiled gently, touched by Kirsten's concern for her family. "He told me to tell you that they were all doing ok, that they miss you and that they want you to get better."

A tear escaped from her eye and Kirsten wiped it away quickly. She sighed.

"You must hate people like me," she commented.

"People like you?" Dr Halliwell questioned.

"I grew up in Newport Beach. I was a rich, spoilt brat who was given everything she ever wanted; and it still wasn't enough."

Dr Halliwell paused, before answering. "I see a lot of people, who come from all kinds of backgrounds. But they all have something in common – they all have an addiction, whether it's alcohol or drugs. And they all need help."

"So what happens now?" Kirsten asked.

"Well, you're going to feel pretty rough for the next couple of days while your body gets used to being alcohol-free," Dr Halliwell answered.

"So everyone keeps saying," Kirsten mumbled under breath.

"So, I want you to come and see me at the end of the week and we'll start working through some stuff together," Dr Halliwell continued.

Kirsten raised her eyebrows. "Like what? My wealthy family, my affluent upbringing, my loving husband and kids, my successful career?"

Dr Halliwell sighed at Kirsten's resistance. "I want us to talk about why you feel like you need to drink to get through a day. It's up to you to tell me what that cause is."

"What if I don't know the answer?" Kirsten's voice trembled as she tried to hide how scared she actually was.

"Then we'll start at the beginning and figure it out together," Dr Halliwell said gently.

Kirsten nodded. Comforted slightly by her words, she left the doctor's office and started to make her way back to her room, seeking peaceful solace. Her mind didn't stop as she walked, thinking over what the doctor had said. She lost herself in thoughts of everything that had led her to this place, until she realised she didn't know where she was going. Every corridor looked the same and she felt like she was walking round in circles, confused about which direction to go in. The corridors were empty of people and Kirsten felt her chest tighten as she started to panic. Her eyes searched for something familiar but it was all so alien to her. She was lost. Her breathing became laboured and she felt her legs weaken under her. She paused, using the wall for support and resting her forehead against the cold plaster.

Her mind spun as she tried to concentrate on breathing. In, out, in, out. She wanted Sandy; she needed Sandy. In, out, in, out. She felt her legs buckle and she fell to the floor, curling up as tightly as possible. She felt like the walls were closing in on her and she started to rock backwards and forwards. In, out, in, out. Drops of sweat ran down her face and her neck, soaking into her t-shirt. It hurt to breathe and her head started to pound again: expand, retract, expand, retract; boom boom BOOM. She couldn't think, she couldn't breathe.

She heard a faint voice and opened her eyes. The glare of the lights stung her eyes and she squeezed them shut again.

"Are you ok? Do you need help?"

She needed to get out of here; she needed air.

She needed a drink.

"Do you want me to get you some water? Do you want anything?"

The throbbing in her brain wouldn't allow her to think. Her body shivered while her insides burned. Her entire body ached.

"I want to go home."


	3. Withdrawal

**A big THANK YOU to everyone who has reviewed. A short update today, I hope you like it and I'd love to know what you think!**

_

* * *

Sandy was perched on the edge of the pool, his feet dangling in the clear blue water. An eight-year-old Seth was in the pool, waiting for Sandy to throw him the beach ball that he held in his hands. The California sun glared down on them and the sound of the ocean echoed from below. Sandy was teasing his son and Kirsten could hear Seth's laughter ring out. She watched from the kitchen as Sandy threw the ball, hitting Seth's head and bouncing away from him on the other side. Sandy's head tipped back as he laughed, while Seth moaned at his dad._

_A young boy appeared, carrying the beach ball. Kirsten had never seen him before, but Seth and Sandy seemed to know him. She watched as he joined in their laughter, throwing the ball over Seth's head to Sandy and catching it when it was returned. Kirsten considered the young boy in her back yard: his blond hair and blue eyes; the way his head hung slightly and how his smile would brighten up his serious face._

_Ryan?_

No, that wasn't right. Ryan didn't belong in this memory.

_The sky turned black as dark clouds filled the sky. A crash of thunder sounded and rain started to pour down. Kirsten peered out the window, searching for her family. Lightning lit the sky momentarily and she saw them. Seth was floundering in the pool and Sandy dived in to help him. Ryan ran to the edge and Kirsten could only watch as he slid on the patio, falling into the water._

_"No!"_

_The sky turned dark again and Kirsten rushed to the door. It was locked. Why was it locked? She struggled with the door as it rattled in its frame._

_The key. Where was the key?_

_Another fork of lightning and Kirsten looked towards the pool. The water was crashing in waves as the wind blew strong. Where were they?_

_She tugged at the door again, struggling with the handle._

_"Sandy! Seth! Ryan!"_

_She screamed, over and over again, pummelling the solid glass window._

_She could see their arms flailing in the air, reaching out for her; could hear them screaming her name back, calling out for her._

_"Kirsten!" _

_"Mom!"_

_She couldn't open the door. She couldn't get to them. She couldn't help them._

_She was powerless._

Kirsten woke with a jolt. She sat up, breathless, and squeezed her eyes shut.

_'It was just a dream; it was just a dream,'_ she repeated in her head.

Pain shot through her body as she shivered under the thick sheets. Bringing her knees up to her chin, she pulled the blankets up around her shoulders. She buried her head into the soft material, wiping away the tears that fell.

_'It was just a dream; it was just a dream; it was just a dream.'_

Her breathing steadied and Kirsten lifted her head. She looked around her room. It was as bare as it had been when she moved in, except for the photo frame that sat next to her bed. She didn't want to add any homely touches to it. It wasn't home; it would _never_ be home.

She hated this room. She missed her own bedroom. She missed her own bed, her own furniture. She missed the pictures that hung on the walls and the photos that decorated the surfaces. She missed the view looking out to the ocean.

She missed Sandy. She missed Seth. She missed Ryan.

She missed her father.

She even missed Julie.

It was her third night in rehab and the first night she had managed to fall asleep without the help of a sedative. Even when she did sleep, her dreams were full of nightmares. Her body was suffering the effects of alcohol withdrawal and she felt like hell. She was hot then cold, hot then cold; she couldn't sleep; her hands shook, making the simplest of tasks difficult. Everything she ate tasted bland and her stomach refused to keep anything down.

Most of her time she had spent alone in her room. She didn't want to see or talk to anyone. She had been to her first group meeting earlier that day and listened to the other patients talk – their stories, their reasons, their excuses. Their eyes burned her as she felt them watching her, waiting for her to speak, waiting for her to give her excuses. She didn't. She sat, sunk in her chair, her eyes lowered and her arms crossed protectively across her chest.

She kept telling herself that she wasn't like them. Ok, so she'd been drinking too much lately but she could control it, couldn't she? She could stop if she wanted to, couldn't she?

Maybe.

Maybe not.

Sandy didn't think she could, that's why he had brought her here.

And if she was honest with herself, she knew he was right. Because more than anything right now, she wanted a drink. If she closed her eyes and concentrated hard enough, she could taste the alcohol, feeling the cold liquid running down her throat and through her body. It made the craving even worse and she shook her head, trying to clear her mind.

Kirsten stretched out her body and lay back down in the bed, staring at the ceiling. She ached from being so tired, but her mind was wide awake and she knew that sleep would not come easily.

Tomorrow she would face her first her first proper counselling session with Dr Halliwell. Talking was compulsory, she knew that, but talking wasn't something she found easy with many people. The only person who knew her – _really_ knew her – was Sandy; but even he didn't want to listen any more. She had pushed him too far, she had pushed him away. He had sent her to rehab because he didn't want to deal with her problems any more.

_No. He loved her. He was trying to help her. He loved her._

She thought about her family, wondering what their lives were like without her. Were they happier without her? Did they sit around the table, talking and laughing, more relaxed now she was out of their lives?

_No. They needed her. She was one-quarter of that family and it wasn't complete without her. They needed her like she needed them…didn't they?_

Turning on her side, Kirsten curled up into a ball. Her mind was constantly tortured with these thoughts, no matter how hard she fought them. Her body started to shake and she gripped the blankets so hard that her knuckles turned white, holding it closely around her.

Were they right? Was she an alcoholic?

_Addicted._

_Dependent._

**_Alcoholic._**

Her pillow caught the tears that fell from her eyes. How did she get to this? When did she become this person?

Her breath was shaky as she inhaled deeply. Ok, so maybe she did have a problem. But problems could be solved; they could be overcome. She could overcome this.

_Was she strong enough? What if she couldn't do it alone? What if she couldn't do it at all?_

No. She would prove to Sandy and Seth and Ryan that she could fight this thing.

She would prove it to herself.


	4. Daddy's Girl

**Thank you SO much for all the reviews, they mean a lot to me.**

**I'm sorry for the lack of updates – exams and broken computers got in the way. I'm off to the Vegas tomorrow, so it'll be another couple of weeks until another update!**

**A HUGE thank you to Lauren for helping me out with the timeline. Honestly, nothing they told us in season 2 matches with what they told us in season 1, so I had to try and piece as much together as I could. For example, Hailey was only 25 in season 2 yet Kirsten and Jimmy used to babysit her when she was 10 years old…doesn't make sense! So if something doesn't match to what you expect, tough:p**

**Anyway, I hope you like it and I love to read your comments!**

* * *

Kirsten stood nervously outside Dr Halliwell's door. Her counselling session was at 10.30am. She checked her watch: 10.28am. Her foot tapped on the floor and, again, she searched for her wedding ring. She rubbed her finger, thinking of Sandy, thinking of Seth and Ryan. She spent a lot of time wondering how they were; wondering what they were doing; wondering if they thought about her much. She missed them. To her surprise, missing them only made her stronger, because all she wanted to do was get better and get out of this place. She wanted to be home. So she would go in and she would talk. Maybe this was what she needed to do.

Her watch reached 10.30am. She took a deep breath and lifted her hand, knocking three times. A voice called her in and she slowly opened the door.

"Kirsten, come on in," Dr Halliwell greeted her warmly. She noticed Kirsten's appearance: the way her clothes hung off of her tiny frame, the way her hair hung loosely around her face and the way she hadn't bothered to conceal her pasty face.

Kirsten sat in the chair in front of the desk, gripping the arms tightly.

"How are you feeling?" Dr Halliwell asked, sitting down opposite her.

"Like hell," Kirsten answered. _She was supposed to be honest, right?_

Dr Halliwell smiled sadly and Kirsten cringed. She didn't want this woman's sympathy.

"Are you sleeping?"

"Not really," Kirsten answered, watching as the doctor wrote down her answers.

"Are you eating?"

Kirsten shrugged. "A little, I guess."

More writing. Kirsten tilted her head slightly, watching. Dr Halliwell lifted her head and met Kirsten's eye. Kirsten looked away, embarrassed to be caught staring.

"Have you phoned home?"

She watched as Kirsten closed her eyes, a common reflex whenever her family was mentioned. Kirsten shook her head.

"Why?"

Kirsten shrugged her shoulders again, sinking slightly in her chair. "I don't know."

"Don't you want to speak to your family?"

Kirsten frowned. If only the doctor knew how much she wanted to speak to them; to hear their voices, assuring her they were ok, assuring her that they still loved her.

"I guess…I guess I don't really know what to say to them," Kirsten said finally.

"What do you _want_ to say to them?"

Kirsten paused, blinking back the tears that threatened to fall. "That I love them; miss them. That I'm sorry. That I wish this hadn't happened."

"So why don't you?"

"I don't know. I'm scared, I think. Sandy…I just remember him being so angry with me; and I never saw the boys before I…I left, before I came here. I'm scared about what they think. I'm scared that I won't ever be able to make things right," Kirsten admitted.

"Don't you think that being here is going to help to make things right?"

"But I can't take back what's already happened," Kirsten said. "What if it's too late?"

"What if it is?"

"Then I might as well not be here," Kirsten mused.

Dr Halliwell nodded, as if Kirsten had just said something right. "Now, this is our first hurdle. In my experience, if you're doing this for someone else, it won't work. You need to be here for _you_; you need to want to get better for _yourself_."

Kirsten smiled slightly to herself, as if she was amused by what the doctor had said.

"What?"

"Nothing. It's just been a long time since I did something for myself. I mean, I've got so used to being a wife or a mother or a daughter…" Kirsten trailed off.

"So, let's find out who the real Kirsten Cohen is, shall we?"

Kirsten nodded, scared by the thought. Had she got so lost that she didn't know who she was any more?

"You went to your first group session yesterday, how was that?"

Kirsten shrugged. "It was ok, I guess."

"Did you talk?"

Kirsten shook her head.

"Why?"

Kirsten paused before answering, "I was listening to all those people tell their stories and I felt like I didn't belong. Not because I think that I don't have a problem like them, but they had _real_ reasons, you know? Their lives had been awful, they'd been abused or they'd lost someone."

"You lost someone," Dr Halliwell interrupted. "You lost your father."

Kirsten looked up at her. The death of her father had only brought her problem to everyone's attention. It had been there a long time before then, she could finally admit that to herself. Admitting it to the doctor was a step she wasn't willing to take just yet.

"Tell me about him."

"My father?" Kirsten frowned.

Dr Halliwell nodded, leaning back in her chair, obviously waiting for Kirsten to talk. Kirsten shifted in her seat.

"I don't really know what to say," Kirsten said.

"Were you close to him?"

"I guess," Kirsten answered. "I mean, as close as anyone could be. He wasn't a very easygoing person, you know? He was hard and cold to most people, he didn't let them get close. He wasn't very loveable."

"But you loved him?"

"Yeah, I did," Kirsten said sadly. "He was my dad."

"What was he like when you were growing up?"

"He wasn't around much. He, uh…he worked a lot. Too much, my mom said," Kirsten offered a small smile. "He worked in construction for a long time and started his own business when he was 27. He did really well."

Dr Halliwell could hear the pride in Kirsten's voice. "The Newport Group?" she queried, reading from a piece of paper in front of her.

Kirsten nodded.

"How did you feel about your dad not being around much?"

"I didn't really know any different. It was mostly just me and my mom during the week – she would pick me up from school and cook me dinner and help me with my homework and put me to bed. My dad was kinda mysterious, even to me. I wouldn't see him all week, he wouldn't get home until after I was asleep and he would be gone in the mornings before I got up for school. But then he'd suddenly be there at the weekends and we'd go out for lunch, or he'd take us to the park or to the pier. It was exciting, I guess…"

Kirsten stopped, her eyes glazing as she played back the memories in her head.

"…when I was younger," she qualified.

"What about when you got older?"

"Things were different. I mean, it's not like everything changed all of a sudden, but I guess it stopped being mysterious and exciting," Kirsten said.

"You didn't get on so well?"

Kirsten shook her head. "I was a typical teenager, I suppose, but I think my dad still expected me to be a little girl. It's like he missed me getting older and all of a sudden I was this rebellious 15 year old."

"You rebelled against him?"

Kirsten let out a small laugh. "I tried. I wasn't very good at it though. I dyed my hair purple once, the day before a really important party that my dad was dragging us to. He was _so_ mad. And I would wear short skirts and low-cut tops, you know, the kind that would just make him angry. I used to sneak out the house and get drunk with my friends on the beach."

"You used to drink when you were 15?"

"Sometimes. I mean, it's not like I was alone. Everyone did it," Kirsten defended.

"You may not have been alone in drinking, but maybe your reasons were different," Dr Halliwell said. "Why do you think you used to drink at that age?"

Kirsten fell quiet. It wasn't something she had ever thought about. She used to think that she was just following the crowd, but maybe it was more than that.

"It used to make me feel…not good, I mean, I didn't like the taste at first. No-one does, right? But I used to like the way it made me feel. I could just forget about life for a while. It stopped me thinking too much."

"And do you recognise any of those feelings with your drinking patterns more recently?"

Kirsten thought for a moment. "I do now," Kirsten admitted.

"What used to happen when you were drunk?"

"What do you mean?" Kirsten asked, confused by the question.

"Some people get ill, some people get silly, some people get depressed. Which one were you?"

"I just felt numb," Kirsten said. "I _feel_ numb."

"Do you like that feeling?"

Kirsten nodded slowly.

"What was it about your life that you wanted to forget?"

"I don't know. Everything. My dad, my mom, school. The stupid parties my parents used to drag us to. Always having to be the good girl, the dutiful daughter. Always expected to be perfect."

"Who expected you to be perfect? Your father?"

"He wanted the perfect family."

"That must have been hard to live up to?"

"I played my role," Kirsten said. "And when I was 18 I got out of there as quickly as I could."

"You studied Art History at Berkeley University?"

"Yeah. My dad wanted me to go to USC and study business but I refused. This was the first chance I had to do what _I_ wanted to do. If I'd gone to USC, life would've been exactly the same, you know? The same kind of people, the same expectations."

"Berkeley wasn't like that?"

"No. I felt so much more relaxed there. I could be me, I didn't have to pretend any more," Kirsten said.

"You were happy there?"

"Yeah, I was, for most of it. It's where I met Sandy," Kirsten smiled as she thought of her husband. "Another choice that my father didn't approve of."

"He didn't like Sandy?"

Kirsten shook her head. "My dad told me once that Sandy was everything he hoped I wouldn't end up with. He didn't have the right background; he didn't make enough money or have the right career. He even hated that he was Jewish."

"That must have been hard?"

"It was. I mean, it's not like my dad's feelings would have ever changed my mind about Sandy. I fell in love with him so quickly and I knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him. But I guess there was always a part of me that wanted my dad's approval."

"What about your wedding? Did he give you his approval then?"

Kirsten laughed bitterly. "My dad didn't even come to our wedding. He kept conveniently being away on business. We kept changing the date, even though Sandy kept telling me it wasn't worth it, but it was to me. He was away on business again just before the wedding and his flight got delayed because of a monsoon so he didn't get back in time. I was upset, Sandy was angry, my mom was trying to make us feel better; it turned out to be a bit of a mess. But I still defend him, even now. I still argue that he would have been there if he could, but I think I know it's a lie, because if he had really wanted to be there, he would have been."

"Did you ever talk to him about it?"

"I tried, but he just brushed it aside and told me I was getting worked up over nothing. He pretty much threw some money at me and told us to go somewhere nice on our honeymoon," Kirsten said. "So we did. We used the money he gave us and the money we'd saved between us, and we spent a couple of years travelling around Europe and Asia. I didn't speak to him for a long time after that."

"What changed?"

"I got pregnant with Seth, so we came back and settled down in Berkeley. And I forgave my dad because I wanted him to be a part of Seth's life; I wanted him to be a part of my life too."

"Did your father's feelings about your marriage change when he found out about Seth?"

"Not really. I think he accepted it more than before, he realised that it wasn't just some silly fling. He still used every opportunity he could to make digs at Sandy though, and Sandy would just take them, with the occasional quip, you know? But he never reacted, even though sometimes I knew he wanted to, because he knew it would upset me."

"And how were things between you and your father after Seth was born?"

"Ok, I guess. I think he was the same to Seth as he was to me, you know – mysterious and exciting. He did really love Seth and Seth loved him, so I was happy."

"So what happened to make you leave Berkeley and move back to Newport?"

"My mom got sick. She had…she had cancer and she was having treatment, and my dad called and asked us to come home. So we did. We never meant to stay forever, but my mom died and my dad needed me."

"Did he tell you that?"

"No, my dad would never admit to needing help. My mom asked me to look after him and my sister. He was so lost after she died, I couldn't leave him."

"What were Sandy's feelings?"

"He wasn't happy there. Neither was Seth. It wasn't their kind of place, their kind of people," Kirsten answered.

"But you stayed anyway?"

"Does that make me a bad person?" Kirsten asked.

"Do you think it makes you bad person?"

"Sometimes. Sometimes I feel guilty. Even now, I know they would leave if they could. I mean, Seth did leave…last summer; and Sandy will say something and I know he's thinking about it. They stay for me. I guess I hoped that they would settle down and be ok with it," Kirsten said. "I felt like we had to stay."

"How was your relationship with your father after your mom died?"

"He shut himself off after my mom died. He wouldn't let anyone get close to him for a long time. He busied himself with work and he showed me the business, then he started to take a lot of time off. He would travel a lot, always with different women. He couldn't stay in a relationship for long."

"How did that make you feel?"

"Strange, at first. It's hard to get used to your dad being with someone who's not your mom. But I just wanted him to be happy," Kirsten said. "I don't think any of them made him happy, though. He missed my mom too much and he knew he couldn't replace her, no matter how hard he tried."

"What about at work? What was your relationship like with him as your boss?"

"It was good, actually, it felt like he actually respected me. I mean, he put a lot of pressure on me – he always set high standards and expected a lot from me. I worked so hard for him, I wanted to make him proud."

"Do you think he was proud of you?"

Kirsten shrugged. "I don't know. He never said," she said. "I told him once that all I wanted to do was to make him proud, and he still couldn't say it."

"Did that upset you?"

Kirsten nodded. "Yeah, it did."

"What about towards the end? What was your relationship like more recently?"

Kirsten shut her eyes, hearing her own voice in her head as she screamed at her father.

_"If this family is screwed up it's because of you…at least I won't die alone, which is more than I can say for you!"_

"Kirsten?"

Kirsten opened her eyes and a tear trickled down her face.

"Are you ok? Do you want to stop for a minute?"

Kirsten shook her head. She had come this far and was surprised at how good it felt to actually talk about it.

"Things were, uh, things were strained," Kirsten's voice wobbled as she spoke. "A lot happened over the past couple of years."

"Tell me about it."

"Last year, my dad came back to work full time, he said he wanted to do more. And it was ok, to start. But then all these things started happening. The company got sued. It was actually Sandy's firm that was suing us. We were literally fighting on different sides and my dad seemed to revel in it. He tried to use it to wind Sandy up."

"What happened in the end?"

"It turned out my dad was hiding an important document, one that lost us the case. I found it and I gave it to Sandy. That pissed him off," Kirsten laughed.

"Then what happened?"

"Then a friend of his, Uncle Shaun, got in trouble doing some work for the company. Work that wasn't exactly legal, you know?" Kirsten said, embarrassed slightly at her father's antics.

"How did that make you feel?"

"I don't know, um…it upset me. He was doing these things that could've got him in trouble, and the company. And me. He even went crawling to Sandy for help, after everything. I was really angry with him for that. Sandy put himself on the line for my dad and he barely got a thank you."

"But you forgave him?"

Kirsten nodded, a wry smile on her face. "I forgave him for everything."

"So what about this year? Were things better this year?"

Kirsten shook her head. "Things got even worse. The DA came after my dad for bribing a council official."

"Was he?"

"No, he was just paying her off to keep her quiet about their secret love child."

She wished she could take it back as soon as she spoke, aware of Dr Halliwell's surprise at her comment. Kirsten sighed.

"My dad had an affair seventeen years ago with this woman, Renee Wheeler, and she'd had his child. A daughter. He had paying her all this time and I never knew, I never saw it," Kirsten explained.

"That must have come as a shock?"

Kirsten laughed ironically. "Yeah."

"How did it make you feel?"

"Angry, upset, shocked. I mean, sure my mom and dad had their issues, like everyone, but an affair? I trusted him, my mom trusted him, and all the time he was hiding this massive secret. I think I really realised then that I just didn't know him," Kirsten said.

"What about the girl? Your sister?"

"Lindsey."

"Do you speak to her? Have you got to know her?"

"A little. She moved away a few months ago with her mom. She's a great girl, we spent some time together before my father screwed her up too," Kirsten said, bitterly again.

"What do you mean by that?"

"He messed her around, like he messed everyone around. One minute he planned to adopt her, and then he was ordering her to take a paternity test. It upset her," Kirsten answered. "It upset everyone."

"It upset you?"

Kirsten nodded. "I don't know why. This girl came into my life and I accepted her as my sister, and then he told me she might not be my sister and I was just so _tired_ of it all."

Kirsten breathed deeply, closing her eyes for a moment.

"I want us to talk about the days leading up to your father's death."

Kirsten frowned, keeping her eyes squeezed shut, but she nodded.

"Can you tell me what happened?"

"I, uh, I had a car accident. I'd been drinking and I was driving home, and I went through a red light. My car was hit by a truck," Kirsten said, images of the truck flashing in her mind. "That's when he knew, that's when they all knew."

"Knew what?"

"That I had a problem," Kirsten's voiced cracked slightly as she admitted it.

"What did your father say?"

"He was really angry with me. He'd seen it before, with my mom…"

"Your mom was an alcoholic?"

Kirsten nodded. "He was trying to help me and I pushed him away. I yelled at him, I said some really awful things."

Tears started to fall down Kirsten's cheeks and she wiped them away.

"I blamed him," she continued without encouragement. "I told him he would die alone. And he did. And I never got to say sorry, I never got to tell him that I didn't mean what I said."

Kirsten started to cry, hating her weakness in front of a stranger. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry," Dr Halliwell said, glad to see such an outpour of emotion.

She waited until Kirsten had calmed down before continuing.

"Do you think your father knew that you were simply reacting to his confrontation? That you didn't mean the things you said?"

"I don't know. That's what makes it so hard. I don't know, I'll never know. I mean, what if he died thinking that I hated him? How am I supposed to live with that?" Kirsten asked, her eyes pleading for answers that she knew wouldn't come. "But you can't answer that, right?

"Would you believe me if I did?"

Kirsten shook her head. The only person she wanted to answer her question was the one person who couldn't.

"So what do I do?"

"You need to find a way to make peace with yourself. Only you can answer that."

Kirsten nodded and sighed.

"I think we should stop here," Dr Halliwell said, noticing Kirsten's exhaustion. She was impressed with Kirsten's honesty. "You need some time to think about what you've said today."

Kirsten nodded, standing up wearily. She walked over to the door and paused when Dr Halliwell called after her.

"Kirsten? You should call your family."

Kirsten left and made her way back towards her bedroom, having memorised the way this time. She stopped by the pay phones, having not been allowed to bring her cell phone with her. She slid a coin into the slot and dialled the familiar number, waiting nervously as it rang. The answer machine came on and Kirsten heard her own voice. She felt guilty for feeling relieved at not having to actually talk to anyone. It comforted her, strangely, to know that they hadn't erased her voice, or erased _her_ from the house. She heard a beep and took a deep breath before speaking.

"Hey. It's me. I, uh…I'm sorry I didn't call before. I just wanted…I don't know, I just wanted to say hi and see how you all were. I miss you, all of you, and I want you to know that I'm gonna do this. I mean, it's hard, but I'm trying. I'm trying really hard. And I'm sorry. I love you."


	5. Mom Was An Alcoholic Too Part 1

**Thank you for your awesome reviews, they mean a lot. I hope you don't find that the chapters are dragging with all the dialogue. I love to read what you think, so please keep reviewing!**

**Massive thanks to Sunny for being so awesome and bouncing ideas around with me, for coming up with ideas and for encouraging me so much! Thanks to Shellie too for listening to me moan and helping me!**

* * *

Kirsten didn't try to call home again. The moment of courage that she'd had on the way back from her counselling session had passed and she had shrunk back into the shell that protected her.

She stayed hidden for most of the weekend, trying to process her thoughts about Friday's counselling session. She hated her room but she felt protected by the four walls that surrounded her. She wondered if she would ever be able to forgive herself for the way she spoke to her father before he died. She had dreamt about him on Friday night. She was seven years old again and her father had taken her to the pier for ice-cream, like he so often did. They were stood at the end of the pier, looking out over the water, when he knelt down in front of her, clasping a gold necklace around her neck. On the end was a 'K', decorated with tiny diamonds. She had hugged him thank you, and in her dream, Kirsten could feel his arms around her and smell his aftershave.

But then he turned pale and clutched at his heart. Kirsten had watched silently, without reacting, as he collapsed in front of her. She didn't call for help, she didn't try to save him. She stood and watched as her father died in front of her. The image of his face haunted her; his eyes pleaded her for help and she didn't move. She was frozen.

She had woken with a jolt, her heart pounding and sweat dripping from her. She had grasped at her neck for the necklace before realising it wasn't there. Just like her father wasn't there any more.

She hated these nightmares. Her body was still going through withdrawal: her hands shook and her body shivered; she was tired; she felt sick most of the time. One counselling session had exhausted her and she wondered if she could make it through any more. The photograph of her family sat next to her bed and she stared at it, trying to find the motivation. It helped. It helped, until she closed her eyes and saw their angry faces once again.

On Sunday she had watched from her window as the other patients greeted their visitors. Kirsten yearned to be one of them; to feel the anticipation of seeing her husband and sons. It also made her feel sick with nerves. She still didn't know how they felt or what they were thinking.

She preferred her own company to that of the other patients. She spoke to them at meal times, answering their questions, but she didn't bother to enquire into their lives. She simply didn't care – she wasn't here to make friends. Still, she missed the company of others and she was beginning to feel the same loneliness creeping in that had led her here in the first place. The same loneliness that Sandy had filled twenty years ago; and the same loneliness that had pushed her towards Carter more recently. Dr Halliwell had encouraged her to keep a journal but every time she tried to write, the words wouldn't come. Instead, it was full of scribbles and drawings. She was out of practice, she realized. Her art had been sidelined as other things had taken over in her life – her family, her job. She still loved art. Sandy was always moaning at her, asking if they really needed a new painting for the house when a large rectangular object would be delivered. Any skills that she had once possessed had obviously disappeared. She remembered Julia telling her about the art workshops that they ran and she contemplated joining. She smiled slightly to herself. Maybe she should make use of the cooking classes and surprise her family when she got home?

Her smile turned to a frown as she sighed. Home. When would be able to go home? It felt like a lifetime away; there was still so much she felt like she needed to talk about. She took that to be a good sign, that she _wanted_ to talk more. Her mom, Sandy, Seth, Ryan…Rebecca, Carter. They all played their part. She wanted to find the answers to the questions that spun in her head. She just wasn't sure she was strong enough – not on her own.

The weekend passed and Kirsten found herself faced with another group session on Monday. Again, she didn't participate. When she walked into that room, her legs would wobble and her whole body began to shake. Her mouth was dry and her throat felt choked. She sat sullenly, never making eye contact, never showing emotion.

By Tuesday, she felt so withdrawn from everyone and everything that it was difficult to even get out of bed. She knew she had to, she had another counselling session with Dr Halliwell. Her body ached as she showered and dressed, and she moved slowly. _What was the hurry?_

She made her way to Dr Halliwell's office. She had thought that the prospect of another session would be less daunting after the first one, but the truth was, she was scared. Scared of the memories that had been forgotten; scared of the feelings that had been suppressed. She knocked and entered when she was called in.

Dr Halliwell looked up and smiled.

"Hi Kirsten," she greeted her.

Kirsten didn't offer a word or a smile back. She sat nervously, her head dropped.

"How was your weekend? Did you think about what we discussed on Friday?"

Kirsten nodded. "I can't stop thinking about it. About everything."

Dr Halliwell waited for her to continue, but when she didn't, she prompted her. "Kirsten?"

Kirsten sighed heavily. "I don't know if I can do this," she said, clearly drained. All the strength that she had found on Friday was gone.

"Do what?"

"This. Drag everything up again. I mean, what does it matter what my childhood was like? Isn't it now that matters?" Kirsten asked.

"It _does_ matter. It matters because everything that's happened in your past has led you here. Not just one event, not one moment – everything. It's all important."

Kirsten inhaled deeply, trying to steady her breathing. She nodded. Closing her eyes, she pictured her family. She tried to imagine their happy faces and the smiles they would wear when she finally came home…sober.

"Ok."

"I know we talked a lot about your father on Friday. Today, I want us to talk about your mom."

Kirsten nodded. She had expected that. _Alcoholism ran in the family, right?_

"You said your dad worked a lot when you were young. Tell me what it was like growing up with your mom?"

"It was good. She was a good mom," Kirsten answered.

"Good how?"

"I don't know, just good," Kirsten said. It wasn't easy to talk today. "I was happy. I loved spending time with her."

"What would you do together?"

"The usual kind of stuff, I suppose. She'd get me ready in the mornings and take me to school, then she'd pick me up in the afternoon. Sometimes she'd take me out for tea – she wasn't a good cook – or sometimes we'd go to the cinema. Mostly we'd just come home and she'd sit with me while I did my homework, or played with my dolls, or whatever," Kirsten smiled wistfully as she remembered.

"Did she work?"

Kirsten shook her head. "No, never. I don't think she cared, she was never ambitious like that. Not like my dad."

"What about at weekends? Did you spend time together as a family when your dad was around?"

"Sometimes. Sometimes it was just me and my dad."

"Which did you prefer?"

Kirsten frowned at such an odd question. "Which did I prefer?"

Dr Halliwell nodded.

"I don't know," Kirsten shrugged.

"Did you like it being just you and your dad after spending all week with your mom? Or did you have more fun when it was the three of you?"

Kirsten paused, thinking. "I guess…I guess I used to get excited when my dad was around and I liked it when it was just the two of us. I had him to myself, you know? It's stupid, because after my mom died, it was like we weren't a complete family any more. There was someone missing," Kirsten said, regret haunting her voice.

"How did your mom feel when you went out with your dad? Do you remember?"

"I don't know, I don't remember," Kirsten said, suddenly realising how much it must have hurt her mother. She thought about how she would feel if it was Seth and Ryan choosing to spend time with just Sandy instead of as a family.

"It must have really hurt her," Kirsten mused, tears threatening her eyes. She blinked them back.

"What about the relationship between your mom and your dad, what was that like?"

"It was ok. I mean, I always thought it was pretty good. They argued, of course they did. Everyone does, right?" Kirsten answered.

"Can you remember what they would argue about?"

"All kinds of things. She didn't like him working so much, she was always asking him to cut down his hours. He would start ranting about providing for the family and they'd end up arguing about it. But they got over it, they never held a grudge for long," Kirsten said. "They always seemed unbreakable."

"What about the affair?" Dr Halliwell asked, knowing it was a harsh question.

Kirsten smiled sardonically. "I guess I was wrong."

"Does it change your opinion on your mom?"

Kirsten arched her eyebrows, surprised. "My _mom_?"

"Yes. How do you feel about your mom now you know about the affair?"

Kirsten fell silent. _Her mom?_ It was such a strange question.

"I feel sorry for her. I…I think I'm angry at her," Kirsten said eventually.

"Angry about what?"

"For not being good enough?" It was phrased like a question. "I'm angry that she never knew, that she never saw what was happening. I'm angry that she never tried to stop it."

Kirsten dropped her head, ashamed of her feelings.

"It's ok," Dr Halliwell reassured her. "There are no right or wrong answers to these questions."

"But I shouldn't feel like that. I should be angry at _him_, not _her_."

"You told me that you _were_ angry at your father."

"I am. I mean, I was," Kirsten stumbled over her words. "But I shouldn't be angry with my mom."

"But you are?"

Kirsten was starting to feel frustrated with the conversation. "Yes, but I shouldn't be."

_Wasn't she listening?_

"Why not?"

"Because it's not her fault!" Kirsten cried, her voice getting louder as she felt anger rising up inside of her.

Dr Halliwell pulled back from her questioning, having got the response she wanted. She _wanted_ to see Kirsten angry over something – anything. To show some kind of emotion that wasn't sadness or fear.

"I want us to go back to your relationship with your mom when you were younger. What happened when your sister was born?" Dr Halliwell asked, her eyes browsing the notes in front of her. "Hailey. Did things change?"

Kirsten stared at her, confused about why she was suddenly changing the subject. She breathed deeply, refocusing her energy.

"It had to. There were four of us now and a baby in the house," Kirsten answered.

"How old were you when Hailey was born?"

"13."

"That must have been strange, at 13, to suddenly have a new sister?"

"I guess. My parents always wanted more than one child, but there were complications when I was born and they didn't think my mom would ever conceive again. They tried for a few years but gave up. Hailey was an accident, but that didn't matter. It was like Hailey made them happier," Kirsten said.

"How did that make you feel?"

"I liked having a baby sister. I mean, I didn't like having to babysit on a Saturday night when I wanted to go out with my friends, but the rest was kinda fun," Kirsten smiled, remembering the bundle that had been Hailey when she was young.

"And how did it change your relationship with your mom?"

"I suppose she wasn't around as much as she used to be," Kirsten said. "Most of her attention was on Hailey."

"And how did you feel about that?"

"It was strange at first. I would come home and sometimes she'd be too busy to listen to me talk about school or my friends. But then my life changed too. I mean, I started High School and I started to rebel," Kirsten recalled.

"The purple hair?"

Kirsten let out a small laugh. "Yeah, the purple hair. I think things would have changed anyway, without Hailey."

"So what did your mom think about your rebelling?"

"She wasn't so openly angry like my dad. She wouldn't yell, she would just ask. She'd ask me to not to upset my dad," Kirsten said. "I don't know, maybe she rebelled when she was younger too."

"Are you much like your mom?"

"I don't know. Maybe a little," Kirsten's voice was hopeful. "Hailey _looks_ like her so much, but she's such a free spirit, you know? My mom was a WASP: she went to the Newport parties, she was Homecoming Queen, everything you'd expect. I was the same, I did everything everyone expected."

"You told me on Friday that you used to drink with your friends. Did you mom know about that?"

Kirsten nodded.

"Did she ever say anything to you about it?"

Kirsten shrugged. "She didn't like it, but she didn't say much. I mean, how could she have a go at me when she was doing the same thing?"

"You were aware she was an alcoholic?"

Kirsten nodded. "I don't think I ever used that word, not then. But I knew she used to drink a lot. She tried to hide it, but I knew."

"What about your dad? Did he know too?"

"Yeah, he did. He never said anything though – to my mom or to me. He just pretended that it wasn't happening," Kirsten answered.

"And how did that make you feel?"

"I guess I got used to pretending it wasn't happening too," Kirsten said. "It's not like she was rolling-on-the-floor drunk. She didn't get into car accidents or make a show of herself. She just wasn't all there…sometimes, when you talked to her, you weren't sure if she was really listening."

"That must have been hard?"

"You get used to it."

Dr Halliwell picked up on the tone of Kirsten's voice. It was obviously something she found difficult to talk about. She pushed her harder.

"Did you resent her for it?"

"Everyone wants a normal life," Kirsten mused. "I wanted a mom that didn't drink. So yeah, maybe I did."

"Did you ever talk to your mom about it?"

"Once. When I was 16, I came home from school and she was sprawled on the sofa. She'd been drinking. Hailey wasn't in her playpen, she was just wandering all over the house. I mean, anything could have happened to her!" Kirsten felt herself getting worked up as she remembered.

"You were angry?"

"Of course I was angry! Hailey was just a baby, she could have hurt herself. I found her in the kitchen, she was trying to reach one of her toys on the table and there was a knife up there. If I'd turned up five minutes later, God knows what might have happened!" Kirsten cried.

"What did you say to your mom?"

"I woke her up and just yelled at her. I told her she was irresponsible and I begged her to stop. I mean, it wasn't as bad when I was younger, but she was getting worse, you know? And Hailey needed her. She was a baby!"

"And you?"

"I needed her too!" Kirsten continued. "I needed her to listen to me, to _hear_ me when I spoke to her. I needed her to be a mom!"

Kirsten felt tears forming again. She had spent so much energy on remembering the good memories since her mom died that she'd forgotten the bad ones. The ones that had affected her more than she realised.

"Can you remember what your mom said?"

Kirsten sighed heavily. "It was like she didn't care. She told me to shut up and to mind my own business. She asked me why I cared so much."

"And what did you answer?"

"She was my _mom_. Of course I was gonna care."

"Did things change after that?"

Kirsten shook her head sadly. "She tried for a couple of days, but it didn't last long. She thought she was hiding it but it was obvious."

"Did you ever get angry with her again?"

"No. What was the point? She didn't listen. She didn't _want_ to get better – not for me or Hailey or my dad," Kirsten sighed.

"That upset you?"

"Yeah, it did. I wanted her to stop and she wouldn't," Kirsten concluded.

"What about when you left home to go to college? Was she still drinking a lot then?"

Kirsten nodded. "I felt guilty for leaving. Leaving Hailey."

"Did you think that Hailey wasn't safe with your mom?"

"No, it wasn't that. After that one time, my mom was more careful with Hailey. I knew she wouldn't hurt her," Kirsten answered. "But Hailey was so young and she shouldn't have had to see that growing up."

"But you did."

"Yeah, and I turned out so well," Kirsten said wryly.

Dr Halliwell looked closer at Kirsten. "Do you blame your mom for your drinking?"

"What? That's not what I said!" Kirsten said angrily.

"But it's what you implied."

"No, it's not. I just meant…I mean…" Kirsten sighed, agitated. "I _never_ said that I blame my mom for my drinking."

"Don't you think your mom's drinking may have something to do with your own problem?"

"Why are you saying that?" Kirsten frowned. She was starting to get more and more angry after every question.

"Your mom found the answer to her problems in the bottom of a bottle, so why can't you?"

"Stop saying that!"

"She never spoke to anyone about her drinking?"

"No, she didn't, but that doesn't mean…"

"So why should you, right?" Dr Halliwell interrupted.

"I don't have to listen to this," Kirsten cried, getting up from her seat.

"Maybe you think that you inherited it from you mom?"

"You don't know what you're saying. It's not my mom's fault I drink. It's _my_ fault. I can't blame anyone but myself. It's _my_ fault."

Kirsten stormed out the room in a rage, her blood boiling. She slammed the door behind her for effect. _How dare she? How dare she blame her mom? She had her faults, but her mom was a good person. She'd had a good childhood. She'd had everything she always wanted. How dare she question that?_

In her office, Dr Halliwell watched Kirsten fly out the room. Leaning back in her chair, she smiled to herself, wondering if Kirsten would realise what had just happened.

**

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There's more to be said about Kirsten's mom, but the chapter was getting long and I didn't want to bore you so I changed the end. I hope it worked! Please let me know what you think.**


	6. Mom Was An Alcoholic Too Part 2

**As always, thank you so much for reading and reviewing, it means a lot to me. And again, special thanks to Sunny for all your help! What would I do without you?**

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Kirsten stormed out the room in a rage, her blood boiling. She slammed the door behind her for effect. _How dare she? How dare she blame her mom? She had her faults, but her mom was a good person. She'd had a good childhood. She'd had everything she always wanted. How dare she question that?_

She flew down the corridor, recklessly knocking into people she passed. Her whole body was shaking with anger and she couldn't feel her legs as she raced through the building. She reached her room and flung herself onto her bed, finally allowing the tears to fall.

Kirsten sobbed into the pillow – crying for her mom; crying for her dad; crying for the mistakes she had made; crying because she was alone. She buried her face into the soft cushion, trying to block out everything around her.

She heard her bedroom door open, creaking on the hinges, and she curled up tighter. She hated people to see her like this: at her weakest, her defences down.

A soft male voice broke into the silence. "Are you ok?"

Kirsten didn't answer, unable to speak through the tears that refused to stop falling.

"I guess that's a no," his voice was uncertain. "Is there anything I can do?"

She recognised his voice, but she couldn't place him. There weren't many male nurses around. A patient, maybe?

He cleared his throat, obviously unsure of what to say to this hysterical woman. The awkward silence didn't bother Kirsten – there was nothing he could say right now that could make her feel any better.

"Maybe I should go and fetch a nurse…"

"No!" Kirsten stopped him, lifting her head. She squinted through her tears, waiting for her eyes to focus on his face. She recognised him from her group therapy sessions.

He paused in her doorway.

"I don't need to see a nurse," Kirsten said, her voice croaky through the tears.

"Rough session?" he asked.

Kirsten nodded despondently.

"Yeah, sometimes they know exactly which buttons to push," he said. "You're new, right? I've seen you in group therapy."

Kirsten nodded again.

"I'm Mark."

He offered his hand. Kirsten sat up wearily and shook it politely.

"Kirsten."

She sat hunched on the edge of the bed, her head dropped. She felt rude, not speaking, but the truth was she wasn't sure _how_ to make conversation with him. She didn't know him. The only thing she knew they had in common was alcohol.

"Is this your family?"

Kirsten looked up to find him with her photo frame in his hands. "Yeah."

She paused, studying him for a moment. He looked sad as his eyes gazed over the photo.

"Do you have family?" Kirsten pried.

Mark shook his head. "No, not any more."

"What happened?"

The question escaped before she could take it back. She bit her lip, blushing at her intrusion.

"I'm sorry…I…I shouldn't have…" Kirsten stumbled over her words.

Mark simply smiled sadly. "It's ok. I…"

A knock at the door interrupted them.

"Kirsten? Can I come in?"

Kirsten looked up to see Dr Halliwell stood at the door. She groaned inwardly, wondering what she was doing here, but nodded slowly, inviting her in.

"Mark, would you mind leaving us please?" Dr Halliwell asked.

"Sure," Mark said, standing the photo frame back in its place next to Kirsten's bed.

Kirsten smiled appreciatively as he left and he raised his hand, gesturing goodbye. Her eyes followed him as he disappeared out the door, before moving back to where Dr Halliwell was stood waiting.

"Can I sit down?" she asked.

Kirsten nodded silently again.

"It wasn't my intention to upset you," Dr Halliwell said, straight to the point. "But it was my intention to get a reaction from you."

"Why?" Kirsten asked, curious as to this process that she was being put through.

"I wanted to see how you really felt," Dr Halliwell answered truthfully.

"And the easiest way to do that was to rile me," Kirsten finished.

Dr Halliwell smiled apologetically. "Can we finish what we started?"

Kirsten wanted to object but there was something in the doctor's tone that told her that, even though it was phrased as a question, she had no choice. She didn't want to continue, too exhausted; her mind craving the comforting feeling she used to get after drinking half a bottle of vodka. Julia's words from her first morning in rehab came back to her:

_"This is not a holiday camp – you're in rehab. It's not going to be easy, you're going to have bad days where you'll want to give up. It's up to you to find a way to keep going without reaching for a bottle, do you understand?" _

Not going to be easy? That was an understatement.

Wearily, Kirsten pushed herself back on the bed, resting against the wall behind her and crossing her legs. Her hands reached for a pillow and she hugged it close against her body, a barrier between herself and Dr Halliwell.

Dr Halliwell shifted in her seat, making herself more comfortable, and her eyes focussed on Kirsten.

"I want us to keep talking about your mom. We were talking about you leaving home to go to college. You told me last week that your dad wasn't happy with your choice. What about your mom, what did she think of you going to Berkeley to study Art History?"

Kirsten took a deep breath before speaking, her eyes glancing one more time at the family photo that stood by her bed, drawing strength from it.

"My mom was always more supportive than my dad. She encouraged me to make my own decisions," Kirsten answered, a hint of hesitance in her voice.

Dr Halliwell looked questioningly at her. "But?"

"But, sometimes, I felt like she didn't like my choices, just like my dad," Kirsten said honestly.

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know, it's just that sometimes…sometimes she would make comments about me not wanting her life; like her way of life wasn't good enough for me. I was seeing this guy, Jimmy, before I left, and my dad had tried to get him to propose to me. He didn't; we'd talked and we both knew it was over. But I think my mom wanted him to propose too – an excuse to keep me closer to home," Kirsten mused.

"How did you feel about your mom's way of life?"

"She was right. I _didn't_ want her life. It was everything about her life that I was trying to escape from," Kirsten allowed herself to smile wryly. "But in the end, that's exactly the life got. The McMansion, the parties, the people, the drinking. I tried so hard not to turn into my mom, that it's like I didn't notice it happening."

"Do you think your mom was happy with her life?"

"Well, she drank, didn't she?" Kirsten said sardonically.

"Do you think maybe she resented your decisions? That she wished she had the chance to escape too?"

"But she chose that life," Kirsten argued.

"Just like you chose yours," Dr Halliwell interrupted. "But life doesn't always turn out the way you planned it, does it?"

Kirsten was silent. Dr Halliwell continued with her questions, preventing Kirsten from dwelling on her thoughts.

"What was your mom's reaction when she met Sandy?"

"She liked him. He charmed her," Kirsten answered, smiling genuinely this time. "She said that our differences were our strength. She always defended him against my dad, she never understood why he hated my choice so much. I mean, my mom and dad came from different backgrounds. My mom was a Newpsie through and through, but my dad had to work hard to build the reputation he had. She never understood why he was so disappointed. And then when he didn't come to our wedding…"

Kirsten trailed off, remembering the sound of her mom's voice as she screamed down the phone at her husband, calling him every name under the sun. He was a hypocrite; a bad father; a selfish son-of-a-bitch.

"Your mom was angry?"

Kirsten nodded. "Really angry. Hailey told me it took a long time for her to forgive him."

"You said you went travelling after the wedding. Did you speak to your mom much while you were away?"

Kirsten shook her head. "No, not really. I should have; I should have called or written more."

"Do you feel guilty about it now?"

"Yes. If I'd known that she was gonna die…" Kirsten dropped her head. "That sounds so bad, doesn't it? I mean, I should have kept in touch because I _wanted_ to, right? Not because I felt obligated to."

"Is that how you felt? Obligated?"

"Yeah, I guess. Everything about my life in Newport has always been about obligations. People have expectations, it's hard to live up to those all the time," Kirsten frowned, hugging the pillow tighter. Her fingers played with the frayed edges of the cotton.

"Were you and your mom closer when Seth was born?"

"A little," Kirsten shrugged. "When he was first born, she helped me a lot. I mean, I was suddenly a mom myself, I had this little person who I had to look after and it frightened me. My mom understood that, she said that she'd been the same when I was born. She helped, you know, she answered my questions and she reassured me."

"What about when Seth was older?"

"I knew she was still drinking and I guess I wanted to protect Seth from that. I was weary about letting them spend too much time together. I was always finding excuses to stop her from spending time alone with him."

"Did she notice?"

"I don't know. She never said anything," Kirsten said. "It's not like she never saw him, I just always made sure that me or Sandy or my dad was around."

"How did that make you feel?"

"I felt guilty about it. And I felt angry; I should have been able to trust her with my son, and I couldn't," Kirsten cried.

"Did you ever tell her that?"

Kirsten shook her head. "We started to visit less. Sandy was working really hard so the weekends we preferred it to be just the three of us. Time seemed to go so fast and then all of a sudden she had cancer. That was more important than her drinking."

"How did you feel about moving back to Newport after so much time?"

"It was strange, at first. Nothing had changed, really. It was still the same people, the same lives, the same mindless gossip; but _I'd_ changed. I was restless in the beginning. Sandy didn't come with us straight away, because of his job, and I missed him so much," Kirsten recalled.

"How did you feel about having to look after your mom?"

"It was hard. I was trying to look after Seth and my mom at the same time," Kirsten answered. "My mom hated being sick; she hated being weak and needing someone to look after her. She hated that it was me. She was so angry that I'd come home to help her, she always said that I had my own life to lead. But I wanted to help her, and my dad. Hailey needed me around too."

"Did you like to feel needed?"

Kirsten frowned. "No, not really. It was draining. Seth was only 6 years old and Hailey wasn't much help – she was 19 and pissed off at the world. My dad buried himself in work so he wasn't around much."

"Was you mom sick for a long time before she died?"

Kirsten shifted on the bed, wincing at the memories that were torturing her mind. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw images of her mom – sick.

"About six months, I guess."

"That must have been hard, to see her so ill for such a long time?"

Kirsten blinked back tears, nodding her head. "Yeah," her voice wobbled as she spoke.

Dr Halliwell waited patiently for Kirsten to continue in her own time.

Kirsten cleared her throat. "She'd had a hysterectomy when they first found the tumour and they put her through a course of chemotherapy. It made her sick, like, physically. I would have to hold her hair out of her face…and then I started pulling out clumps in my hands as I held it. It scared me. I was scared I was hurting her. She changed too; her face changed. She got thinner and she looked so drawn and tired all the time. Sometimes I didn't even recognise her."

The tears started to fall down her pale cheeks but she didn't move to wipe them away. Instead, she let them fall onto the pillow, drawing her knees up to her chin. Her face glazed over as she lost herself in the memory, her eyes focussed on a tiny spot on the carpet.

"Towards the end she was having radiation therapy and that made her really tired all the time. She slept a lot then, and even when she was awake, she couldn't concentrate. It was like she wasn't my mom any more."

"Can you tell me about her death?"

Kirsten frowned, struggling with her words. "She, uh…she died on the 18th April 1994. I remember because they kept saying that there was going to be a big storm that night. There wasn't, by the way. It rained a lot, but there was no storm. You don't get many storms in Orange County."

"Kirsten, tell me about your mom," Dr Halliwell urged her gently.

"It started just like every other day. I mean, she was getting worse and the doctor told us that she was going to die soon, but I wasn't expecting it that day. I got up and Sandy was running late for work and Seth was bugging me about buying him a new comic book and dad was complaining about having to meet with some investors. I went up to see my mom, just like I always did, and there was something different. I can't explain it. It was like she had no energy left to fight any more. I stopped my dad from leaving and Sandy called the doctor. He said she wouldn't make it through the day. Hailey just started to cry and my dad went so quiet."

"And how did you feel?"

"I felt numb. It didn't feel real but at the same time, it hurt so much," Kirsten sobbed into her knees. "We spent most of the day by her bed, just waiting. It was horrible. We were just waiting for her to die. She was so out of it, we didn't even get to say a proper goodbye. I mean, we did but I'm not sure how much she understood. She died in the afternoon, it was 3.13pm. My dad was sat on one side, holding her hand, and I was sat on the other side. Hailey was sat on the bed by her feet. She just stopped breathing; just like that. There was no warning, she was just gone. I can still see her, so pale and still, and I don't want to remember her like that."

Kirsten dissolved into tears now, clinging to the pillow she held in her hands. She tried to push the image of her mom out of her head, but it plagued her thoughts. She felt the same pain that she had felt 11 years ago, as though she had just lost her mother all over again. Her chest felt tight and she struggled to breath, gasping for breath through her sobs. Her eyes started to sting from all the tears she was crying and she squeezed them closed. She curled up as tightly as possible, blocking out everything else around her. She was surprised when she felt a warm hand on her back and a soothing voice in her ear, telling her to breathe and stay calm. Dr Halliwell had crossed the room and was now sat next to her on the bed, showing uncharacteristic sympathy. Kirsten tried to respond, trying to take deeper breaths. Her hands rubbed her face, wiping away the tears that streamed down her cheeks. Dr Halliwell waited patiently for Kirsten to catch her breath, eventually calming down.

"It hurts," Kirsten spoke eventually.

"What hurts?"

"Everything. I miss them so much. I miss my husband and my kids; I miss my dad; I miss my mom," Kirsten said, her breath shaking as she spoke.

"It's ok to miss them. There are a lot of people here who can relate to how you're feeling. Maybe if you spoke to them, you'd find it easier to cope with," Dr Halliwell suggested. She had noticed that Kirsten was a loner amongst the patients and it surprised her.

Kirsten nodded.

"You're doing really well," Dr Halliwell commended her. "We're nearly finished for today."

"Nearly?" Kirsten sighed, half amused.

Dr Halliwell smiled gently. "Yes, nearly."

She stood up from the bed and resumed her seat opposite Kirsten.

"Tell me what you think about when you think about your mom."

Kirsten frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I mean when someone mentions your mom, what's the first thought or memory that comes into your head?"

Kirsten paused, a small smile creeping over her face. "I was about 7 or 8 years old. My mom was in the garden, planting flowers, and I was supposed to be inside at the table, but I sneaked upstairs into my mum's wardrobe. She found me about 20 minutes later, wearing her favourite shoes, which were too big for me, and her most expensive jewellery. My face was covered in smears of her make up. I thought she was going to go mad, but she just laughed. She picked me up and wiped my face clean; and then she showed me how to put it on properly. She did my hair too. I felt so glamorous."

"What do you think she would say to you if she was here now?"

Kirsten shuddered at the question. It was a question she had already asked herself. Would she be upset? Angry? Disappointed?

"I think she would feel guilty," Kirsten finally answered.

"Guilty?"

Kirsten shrugged. "If it were Seth or Ryan, I think _I_ would feel guilty. It's bad enough that you put your children through it; no-one wants them have the same problems."

Dr Halliwell nodded, understanding her answer. "One last question, I promise: what do you miss most about your mom?"

"I just miss her being here; I miss being able to talk to her," Kirsten said sadly. "There are so many things I wish I could tell her about. Every time something happens, I wish she was here to see it."

"Like what?"

"Like Ryan. I wish she could have met him. I wonder about what she would have said when we took him in. I mean, my dad wasn't happy. He always thought that Ryan was just after our money, but he was so wrong. I wish he could have believed that before he died. Ryan's never asked for anything from us. Sometimes it's hard enough just to get him to let us buy him a new pair of shoes," Kirsten let out a small laugh. "I think my mom would have liked Ryan."

Kirsten fell quiet for a moment. "I just wish she was here."

Dr Halliwell waited before standing up. "I think we'll finish here. I know today has been hard for you, Kirsten, but you've made a lot of progress today."

Kirsten nodded, too tired to talk any more. Dr Halliwell left and Kirsten lay back on her bed, staring at the ceiling. She felt fatigue running through her and she closed her eyes, letting the sleep take over, the memory of her mom laughing as she stumbled across the floor in four-inch heels replaying over and over in her mind. For the first time in a long time, Kirsten fell asleep with a smile on her face.


	7. Sisters and Boyfriends

**Sorry for the delay in updating, I got distracted with finishing Sweeter Than ****Kandy**** and I also got stuck writing this chapter. Thank you SO much to everyone who keeps reviewing this fic. I'm always interested and happy to hear your thoughts.**

**This chapter is especially for Sunny who helps me A LOT with writing this fic and is also the biggest Kimmy fan I know!**

* * *

Kirsten woke the next morning feeling a little better. It still hurt, both physically, as she went through withdrawal, and emotionally, as she replayed the most difficult times of her life. But she felt like something had changed inside of her. She was more positive and more convinced than ever that she could get through this. There was still no spring her step, but it wasn't so difficult to get out of bed.

Yesterday had been hard – harder than she realised it would be. Whenever she spoke about her mom, there was always a soft and wistful tone in her voice as she replayed the good times. Kirsten rarely spoke of the bad moments she had shared with her mom; it felt disrespectful. But in her counselling session, the bad moments had been the focus and Kirsten felt stronger for it.

She spent the morning wandering around the grounds of the rehab centre, finally taking the time to notice her surroundings. It was beautiful here. People sat under the shade of the trees that lined the perimeter; the ocean lapped quietly at the shore beneath them; flowers and blossoms coloured the gardens. It was peaceful and idyllic, and Kirsten would never have guessed that it was a rehab centre if she had seen it from a distance.

The sun grew strong. She had covered her fragile body with long, loose-fitting clothes to hide her shrunken frame and she was hot under its glare. She moved inside, walking the corridors, pausing every now and again to read a notice board or a poster. She held her head higher now as she walked, no longer refusing to meet the eyes of the people she passed; noting how she wasn't the only one walking around on her own. She still missed having company sometimes, but it was the company of her family and friends she wanted, not strangers.

As she walked, Kirsten passed the workshop rooms: organised activities for the patients to take part in; to occupy their time – and thoughts – with. A welcome break from the anguish that counselling sessions brought. Kirsten craved to feel that light relief and she hesitated outside the art workshop, watching as people worked at their drawings. She saw the jokes and conversation that passed between them and she wished she could be a part of it; but something stopped her from going inside. Her hand was poised over the door handle, but she couldn't bring herself to open the door.

_'Maybe next week,'_ she thought to herself. One step at a time.

The positive feeling stayed with Kirsten through the night and to the next day, when she faced another group session. She remained silent throughout, but this time she listened to what they were saying and she was surprised to hear her own story being spoken back to her in someone else's words.

She saw Mark again and they shared a smile across the circle. Kirsten felt a little embarrassed about the state she had been in when he had seen her last, but his reassuring glance calmed her. He was one of the few that spoke during their session and she listened closely to him as he talked about his drinking – about how he had used alcohol to escape from life and the things that were causing him pain; how he found himself _needing_ to drink to get through the day; how he found that the more life spiralled out of control, so did his drinking. It all rang so true in Kirsten's head. She recognised herself in his words and it scared her to realise how out of control she had become.

She watched her fellow patients carefully as they spoke and she saw their struggle as they faced their demons and accepted their problems. To Kirsten, speaking about her problem in front of all these strangers terrified her; yet here they were, sharing their experiences with her – a stranger. _If they could do it, why couldn't she?_ She had always been strong; she had always been able to face up to everything that confronted her in the past. Now was no different. There was still a hint of the old Kirsten Cohen inside of her: the Kirsten Cohen who was strong and resilient; the Kirsten Cohen who would stand up in front of these people that she didn't know and admit that she had a problem. Maybe it wouldn't be as difficult as she thought. If these people could do it, so could she.

By the time her next counselling session with Dr Halliwell, she felt more prepared. She wanted to get better, she wanted to escape from everything that had caused her to be here in the first place. She arrived at the office feeling confident, but still nervous.

"Kirsten, come on in," Dr Halliwell greeted her.

Kirsten entered the room and sat down in her usual chair. The process was starting to feel familiar.

"How have you been since our last session?"

"Good, actually," Kirsten answered. "I thought I'd wake up the next day feeling awful, but I'm actually starting to feel better. I mean, I know I still have a lot of work to do but, I don't know…it feels a little easier now."

Dr Halliwell smiled, clearly pleased with her quick progress. "Good."

Kirsten settled in her chair, waiting for the questions to start.

"We've already talked about your dad and your mom; today I want us to start with your sister, Hailey. I know we've already mentioned her, but I want us to focus on _your_ relationship with her. You said you were 13 when she was born?"

Kirsten nodded, yes.

"That's quite an age difference. Was that ever a problem?"

"I guess it meant that we were never close, like some sisters are," Kirsten answered eventually, pondering the question before she spoke.

"Did you spend much time with her when she was young?"

"I suppose I did when she was a baby," Kirsten said. "I would look after her after school or at weekends, when my parents were busy. I liked spending time with her when she was little."

"And when she got older?"

"I suppose when I got a bit older and I started dating, I didn't spend so much time with her. It would annoy me that my parents expected me to stay in on a Saturday night to babysit," Kirsten said. "She was three years old and just starting to talk, you know? She wanted attention and I wanted to hang out with my boyfriend or my friends."

"You resented her for it?"

"I think sometimes I did, yes," Kirsten admitted.

"What about when she was older still? She must have wanted to spend time with her big sister?"

Kirsten shrugged. "Well, she was only five by the time I went to college and I guess I didn't do a good job of keeping in touch with her. I barely kept in touch with my parents. She grew up without me really."

"How does that make you feel?"

"A bit guilty, I suppose. But it wasn't like she was ignored as a child. My parents doted on her. She was the baby, you know?"

"Were you jealous of that?"

"Sometimes. She was the princess, it was like she couldn't do anything wrong. I went to the wrong college and married the wrong guy and had the wrong career," Kirsten said, a slight bitterness to her tone.

"Did that upset you?"

"Of course it did. I didn't make those choices just to piss off my parents," Kirsten said. "I chose Art History because that's what I wanted to do and I married Sandy because I loved him. I just don't think they ever understood that."

"And what about Hailey? What kind of choices did Hailey make?"

Kirsten smiled as she thought about her lively sister. "Hailey was more trouble than me. Her choices involved dropping out of school and refusing to go to college. She rebelled harder, she partied harder."

"Did she drink too?"

"Yeah, she did. She wasn't afraid to experiment either," Kirsten said.

"You mean drugs?"

Kirsten nodded.

"What did you think about that?"

"I didn't like it. I mean, drinking was one thing, but some of the drugs she used to take were dangerous," Kirsten said.

"Did she listen to you?"

Kirsten laughed slightly. "No, never. I don't blame her, really, I mean I was just an interfering older sister to her. I didn't really have any right to tell her how to live her life."

"What about your parents? Weren't they worried about her?"

"Well, she did a pretty good job of hiding it when she was younger. She left home at 17 and I don't think she would have come back if my mom hadn't got sick," Kirsten said.

"What was your relationship like while your mom was ill?"

"Pretty intense, I guess. It took a while to track her down. Hailey's not good at keeping in contact while she's away. My mom was pretty sick by the time Hailey got back and it was stressful at home," Kirsten answered.

"Did you argue much?"

"A little, I suppose. Hailey was always spoilt, she was used to getting what she wanted, but I was too busy looking after Seth and my mom," Kirsten said. "When my mom was _really_ ill, we got a bit closer. We started talking more. But after she died, we grew apart again. Hailey went travelling again; there were a few phonecalls and letters but they stopped eventually."

"And what about now?"

"She came home for a while last year. It was the same as it always is at first – my dad showered her with attention and she played with his affections, hoping that she would get some money out of it. Only, this time, my dad actually listened to me."

"What do you mean?"

"He refused to give her any money. I think he wanted her to stick around for a bit longer," Kirsten said. "My dad always felt closer to Hailey. She reminded him a lot of my mom."

"That must have hurt you?"

Kirsten shrugged. "I always pretended that it didn't matter to me, but it did. I tried so hard to make him happy and nothing I did was ever good enough," she answered sadly.

"How did that affect your relationship with Hailey?"

"After 25 years you just get used to it," Kirsten said dismissively.

"Was there rivalry between you?"

Kirsten allowed a small smile to pass her lips. She saw Dr Halliwell raise her eyebrows. "It's complicated," she answered before the question came. "After my dad refused to give her money, Hailey ran off to LA and she was working as a stripper until my sons found her and brought her home. She hung around for a few months and, uh, started dating my ex-boyfriend."

"Was that strange for you?"

"I guess," Kirsten admitted truthfully. "I mean, it wasn't like I was jealous. Maybe a little, I don't know. A part of me was worried – about Jimmy – because I know what my sister is like. She'll use people to get what she wants. And he was my ex, you know? Who wouldn't find that strange?"

"Was he a serious boyfriend?"

Kirsten nodded. "He was my first."

"Your first…?"

Kirsten blushed slightly. "My first everything."

"So how did that affect you and Hailey?"

"I tried to back off and not play the domineering sister. Things between me and Hailey were actually getting better. It was like we were becoming proper sisters," Kirsten said. "And I got used to Hailey and Jimmy being together. They were happy – in love."

"And now?"

"Hailey got a job in Japan and left at the end of the summer. It was too good for her to refuse," Kirsten's voice rang with pride. "She kept in touch this time, too. I feel closer to her now than I ever have."

"What about when your father died?"

"It was different to when my mom died. There wasn't any anger or bitterness between us; we were only angry at ourselves," Kirsten said.

"Angry at yourselves?"

"Hailey felt guilty for not being at home; she blamed herself for the stress she'd put him through when she was younger. I blamed myself for the things I'd said to him," Kirsten said quietly, still affected by her last conversation with her dad.

"Was she aware of your drinking problem?"

Kirsten shrunk back slightly as Dr Halliwell addressed her alcoholism so openly and honestly. "I…I don't know. Maybe she guessed when she came back for the funeral. I wasn't really coherent."

Kirsten dropped her eyes. Dr Halliwell leaned forward in her chair, resting her arms on the table.

"Have you called her since you've been in here?"

Kirsten shook her head.

"Maybe you should think about speaking to her. She's the only one who shares your experiences with your mom's drinking. It might help you to talk to each other about it," Dr Halliwell recommended.

"Maybe," Kirsten said unconvincingly. She hadn't even spoken to Sandy or the boys.

Dr Halliwell leaned back in her chair once more and studied Kirsten for a moment, before continuing with her counselling. "Tell me more about Jimmy."

Kirsten raised her eyebrows, surprised. She had expected to talk about her family – her mom and dad, Hailey, Sandy and the boys – but Jimmy?

"Jimmy?" she questioned.

"Yes. You said he was your first _'everything'_. So he was your first boyfriend? First love?"

Kirsten nodded. "Yeah, he was."

"So tell me about him."

"Why?" Kirsten frowned, not understanding the significance.

"Why not? Kirsten, all of your relationships in your life are important. Jimmy was your first love, that's bound to have had an impact on the rest of your relationships," Dr Halliwell explained.

"Oh, ok. Well, um, we met when we were 16. Jimmy moved to Newport with his parents from San Diego. He was in my English class," Kirsten smiled as she remembered the sixteen-year-old Jimmy Cooper that had rushed into the classroom late on a Monday morning, his hair messy and his appearance dishevelled.

"Were you friends immediately?"

"Yeah, I guess. We came from similar backgrounds. Our parents became friends through the yacht club. My father and Jimmy's father were both into sailing," Kirsten answered. "We hung out a lot at the Newport functions our parents would drag us to."

"Tell me about how you got together."

"It was our cotillion…" Kirsten started, before she was interrupted.

"Cotillion?"

Kirsten blushed, embarrassed by her background. Of course not everyone had cotillions.

"It's a formal event that Newport holds when all the young girls make their debut into society," Kirsten explained. "Every girl is introduced with her father and greeted by her date. Everyone has to get dressed up and you dance, it's stupid really."

"And Jimmy was your date?"

"Yes, he was. He's always been a gentleman. I was proud to make my debut with him," Kirsten said. "Jimmy had a party at his parents' house afterwards and we were outside talking. It got kinda cold so he gave me his jacket to put on to keep me warm. And he kissed me."

"Sounds romantic?"

Kirsten smiled. "Yeah, it was. Jimmy always knew how to romance a girl."

"You said he was your first. Was he the first person you had sex with?"

Kirsten felt her face flush with red at such a personal question. "Yeah, he was. We, uh…we were each other's firsts."

Dr Halliwell smiled at her coyness. "You can tell me as much or as little about it as you want."

"It's ok, it's just that I haven't thought about it in such a long time," Kirsten said. "He took me out on his dad's yacht. We had a picnic and champagne, and then we made love in the open air in the middle of the ocean."

"He had planned it?"

"Yeah, I think so. I mean, he was…prepared," Kirsten answered. "But I didn't feel pressured. Nothing would have happened if I hadn't wanted it to. And I wanted to sleep with him. I loved him"

"And you were drinking?"

"Well, yeah, but we weren't drunk if that's what you mean. I knew what I was doing," Kirsten defended.

"Did you drink much when you were together?"

"You mean did we drink every time we had sex?" Kirsten's tone was annoyed at the accusation. "No, we didn't."

"You're angry at the question?"

"You make it sound like the only reason I would sleep with him was because I was drunk. Don't you think that's unfair? On me _and_ on Jimmy?" Kirsten asked.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean it to sound like that," Dr Halliwell apologised.

Kirsten raised her eyebrows at the doctor's apology. _That was a first._

"Tell me more about your relationship."

Kirsten noted the change of subject gratefully. "It was sweet. Young love, I guess."

"When did you know you were in love with him?"

Kirsten paused, trying to think of a specific time when she had realised that she loved him. "I think it was one night we came home from the cinema. My dad was away on a business trip and my mom was asleep on the sofa. She'd been drinking; I don't know how much but there was an empty bottle on the table. I hadn't told Jimmy about her drinking problem, but it was obvious. It was awkward and embarrassing, but he didn't say anything though. Hailey started crying upstairs and he just offered to go to her – she adored Jimmy when she was little – and he left me to get my mom to bed. He knew how I felt without having to ask me. I think it was then that I knew I loved him."

"It sounds like you loved him a lot?"

Kirsten smiled. "I did back then. I mean, I still do, I suppose. You never stop loving someone completely, do you? At least, I hope you don't."

"I think first loves are always different to any other relationship you have. It sounds like you were very happy together; did you argue much?"

"No, not at all. It wasn't that kind of relationship. It was easy…simple," Kirsten answered. "Jimmy was always very easygoing. He never liked a confrontation, he'd rather go along with whatever I wanted to avoid any arguments."

"Sounds great."

"Yeah," Kirsten said unenthusiastically.

"It wasn't so great?"

Kirsten sighed. "No, it was great. _We_ were great."

"But?"

"I guess, sometimes it was _too_ easy. Sometimes I just wanted more," Kirsten said.

"Is that why things ended between you?"

"I guess. We were together for two years until we went to college. Jimmy stayed close to home and went to USC and I went to Berkeley," Kirsten answered.

"You never tried to make the relationship work long distance?"

Kirsten shook her head. "I think we both knew it wouldn't work. I mean, Jimmy's future was planned out just like mine was supposed to be. His father was an investment advisor and he expected Jimmy to follow in his footsteps. Jimmy was the kind of guy who liked to please people so he obliged."

"And you wanted a different life?"

Kirsten nodded. "It wasn't that I was unhappy with Jimmy or that I didn't love him, but if we had made it work, I would have had the life I was trying to get away from. The Newport life. Jimmy's life."

"How did Jimmy feel about it?"

"He wanted us to stay together. I think…I think maybe he loved me more than I loved him. Is that a terribly egotistical thing to say?"

Dr Halliwell shook her head and Kirsten continued.

"Our parents wanted us to stay together. My dad was mad enough at my decision to go to Berkeley to study Art History; he hated it when I told him that me and Jimmy were splitting up. He even tried to convince Jimmy to propose to me."

"Did he?"

"No. He knew I would say no," Kirsten answered. "But he was upset about it. He tried to get me to change my mind, but I didn't. I couldn't. I wanted more than he could give me."

"Did you stay friends?"

"Yeah, of course. He's always been someone I can talk to about pretty much anything. He and his family ended up living next door to us when we moved back to Berkeley. We were neighbours for nearly 10 years."

"But not any more?"

"No. Jimmy and his wife, Julie, got divorced last year. Jimmy got himself in trouble – money trouble," Kirsten was deliberately vague. "They sold the house to my dad."

"So your dad and Jimmy were still close?"

"Um, not really. My dad bought the house for Julie," Kirsten said. She saw the puzzled expression on Dr Halliwell's face. "It's kind of confusing. When Jimmy and Julie split up, Julie started dating my dad and they got married last year."

"And Jimmy was dating your sister?"

Kirsten nodded, a smile spreading on her face. "I told you it was confusing."

Dr Halliwell couldn't help but smile at the pseudo-incestuous relationships in Kirsten's family.

"How did that affect your relationship with Jimmy?"

"It didn't really. I mean, we were friends, nothing was going to change that," Kirsten said.

"What about Sandy? What did he think about your friendship with Jimmy?"

"There were times when he didn't like it, but he and Jimmy became friends eventually," Kirsten answered.

"What kind of _'times'_?"

"Um…well, last year when Jimmy was having money troubles, he asked me to lend him some money. I did, but I didn't tell Sandy. I think he was more upset that I didn't tell him rather than lending Jimmy the money," Kirsten said. "And, uh…just after Jimmy split from his wife, he, uh…he tried to kiss me."

"Did you respond?"

"No!" Kirsten replied quickly. "It was something stupid that shouldn't have happened and Jimmy knew that. He'd just lost his family, he wasn't thinking straight."

"And now? How is your relationship with Jimmy now?"

"It's good. He moved away from Newport last year. After Hailey went to Japan for her job, he ended up having an affair with Julie…"

"His ex-wife? The one who was married to your dad?"

Kirsten nodded. "Yeah. His oldest daughter, Marissa, found out and it was all a big mess. He got a job offer in Hawaii and he took it."

"How did you feel about him leaving?"

"I was sad, I didn't want him to go. I think a part of me was jealous too. I mean, I left Newport to go to college and I thought I would never go back. Now he's gone and I'm still there. It wasn't supposed to be that way round," Kirsten said.

"You're bitter?"

"No, I mean it was good for Jimmy to leave, I think. He needed to sort his life out and he did. I was pleased for him," Kirsten answered.

"But?"

"He left just after I'd found out about Lindsey and just before things got rough with Sandy. It felt like my life was slowly turning into this big mess and he was finally sorting his out. Maybe that's cruel, but my life was always so together compared to his. I guess it was a shock to suddenly be the other way around," Kirsten admitted. "But that doesn't mean that I'm not glad he got his life figured out. Out of everyone I know, he deserves it the most."

Dr Halliwell nodded, understanding. "So maybe bitter was the wrong word? You're…"

"Envious, I think," Kirsten interrupted without realising. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry," Dr Halliwell said, glad that Kirsten was obviously more comfortable in these counselling sessions now. "Ok, one last question. Tell me how Jimmy changed your life?"

"Oh, um…" Kirsten fell silent as she thought of her answer. "He made me more confident inside. I mean, I'd always been able to carry myself as confident but that was on the outside. Jimmy was the first person to love me because he _wanted_ to. He made me feel good about myself. And he was the first person _I_ ever loved, that'll always mean something to me."

Dr Halliwell smiled at her answer, before leaning back in her chair. "Well, Kirsten, I'm very impressed with how you're doing here at Suriak. You've made great progress already."

Kirsten smiled bashfully. "Thank you. I still feel like there's so much more to talk about though."

"Don't worry, we have plenty of time. We'll keep doing this until we've talked about everything _you_ want to talk about," Dr Halliwell reassured her. "I think we're done here today, unless there's something else you want to say?"

Kirsten shook her head. She still found these counselling sessions exhausting.

"Enjoy your weekend. Think about speaking to Hailey," Dr Halliwell said.

"I will. Thank you," Kirsten said, standing up from her chair. She left the room and made her way back to the sanctuary of her room, desperate for some peace to dissect her counselling session.

The positive feeling that had been growing was still with her and Kirsten was pleased. Curling up on her bed, she stared at the photo of her family next to her, feeling one step closer to going home.


	8. One Step Forwards

**As always, thank you so much for the reviews. I hope you like this chapter, I think it's a nice break from the counselling sessions.**

**And a big thank you to Sunny for your suggestions and honesty!**

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It was Sunday afternoon. Kirsten was perched in the small alcove of her bedroom window, her back cushioned by pillows against the frame. Her room overlooked the beautiful gardens and stunning backdrop of the ocean. The window was open and she inhaled deeply, the fresh air filling her lungs. Below her, people walked the grounds with their visitors – family and friends. Next week she would be allowed her own visitors.

_Would __Sandy__ come? Would he bring Seth and Ryan? _

Not a moment of the day passed when she didn't think about them. She wondered if they were eating properly; if they were keeping the house tidy; if they had clean clothes to wear every day. A smile passed her lips as she thought about the times they shared – meal times; the late afternoon banter when she would arrive home from work to find them all conversing in the kitchen; the rare evenings when they would all be home and find themselves congregating together so naturally.

She longed for next week when she would be able to see them – to feel Sandy's arms around her again, to hear Seth's anecdotes and to share amused looks with Ryan as they listened. Having her family around would only serve to make her stronger; to make her work harder; to help her achieve her final goal of going home. She felt her body tingle with excitement and she hoped the next week would pass quickly.

Kirsten sighed and looked down at the notebook in her hands. Her pen had lingered over the pages for the past hour but she had written nothing. She was starting to appreciate Ryan's silence. Words couldn't always express how you were feeling. Instead, she had started to sketch the view from her window – the water, the trees and bushes, the blossomed flowers. She wondered if she would be able to transfer it onto a canvas and determinedly decided to join the art class on Wednesday.

_'It might even be fun,'_ she thought to herself.

She wondered if she should be having fun here. She wasn't on holiday, she was here to face her problem and get better. But did it all have to be so serious? She felt like she was getting better. Friday's counselling session had been easier than the others, not because of the subject matter, but because she had felt more comfortable and more willing to be honest. The old Kirsten Cohen was coming back – the one who was focused and determined and strong.

When Monday arrived, Kirsten had made up her mind. Today was the day.

She went to her group session, her hands shaking slightly, but her feelings resolute. She sat and listened to the counsellor as he spoke to them, trying to concentrate on his words but too busy thinking about her own. Her speech was planned. She just needed to say those eight words.

"Who would like to start today?" the counsellor asked.

Kirsten sat back in her chair nervously, her eyes darting from face to face as she waited for a volunteer. A young woman confidently held up her hand and the counsellor nodded towards her to start. Kirsten sighed with relief.

"My name is Natalie and I'm an alcoholic."

Eight words.

Kirsten's foot started to tap lightly on the floor and her hands were tightly clasped together in her lap. She ran her fingers over her wedding finger, noting the lack of her wedding rings again. She wished Sandy was here now, offering his silent support. She remembered the small push he had given her last Chrismukkah when they had been at Lindsey's house, and when the counsellor asked for the next person to speak, she imagined his hand was there again on the small of her back. Hesitantly, she raised her hand.

The counsellor smiled, surprised by her participation. "Go ahead," he urged her.

Kirsten nodded and took a deep breath.

"My name is Kirsten and…"

She stopped. She cleared her throat.

"My name is Kirsten and I'm…"

And suddenly she was choked. She felt a hand grasping her neck, squeezing her oesophagus so that she couldn't breathe. Her legs started to shake uncontrollably and she reached out for the bottom of the chair.

"I…I'm…"

Her face burned as she felt everyone staring at her. She couldn't do it – she couldn't say the words. She felt a heavy weight pressed against her chest and she gasped for air. Her head started to throb. Her eyes threatened to erupt with tears. She stood up abruptly, stumbling backwards, knocking the chair to the floor, and backing out of the room.

_No. This wasn't supposed to happen. It wasn't supposed to be like this._

Somehow, her legs carried her down the hall and outside into the fresh air. Her lungs ached as she breathed erratically. Her head continued to pound and every inch of her skin prickled. Her legs finally gave way and she collapsed on the ground, hugging her knees to her chest defensively.

"Kirsten?"

She lowered her head, hiding her face away from the source of the voice. Her cheeks were stained with tear tracks and her cheeks were flushed red. Her body shook as hysteria took over.

She felt a warm hand on her shoulder and she shook it off instinctively.

She heard the stranger pause, as if they were thinking, before he or she sat down next to her. No sound came from this person and Kirsten couldn't help but be intrigued.

_'Maybe that was the plan,'_ Kirsten thought, but it worked. Her breathing steadied and her body calmed down from its uncontrollable shakes. She eventually lifted her head to see Mark sat next to her. She felt strangely glad to see him.

"Freaked out, huh?" he asked bluntly.

Kirsten nodded.

"It happens to a lot of people, don't worry," Mark reassured her. "Although not many make such a dramatic exit from the room."

He grinned at her and Kirsten couldn't help but smile, her face blushing with embarrassment.

"I thought I was ready," Kirsten said quietly.

"It took me three months before I could finally talk in a group session," Mark told her. "You can't rush these things. Don't be afraid to take you time."

"But I don't want to take my time. I want to get out of here as soon as possible," Kirsten said, horrified by the thought of spending three months here.

"Yeah, well, one thing they teach you here is that you have no control over the timescale. You can't force yourself to get better, it happens when it happens. Some people are here for a few weeks, some are here for a few months."

"What about you? How long have you been here?" Kirsten enquired.

Mark simply smiled.

"Please," Kirsten continued. "I want to hear someone else's story."

He stared at her for a moment, before lifting himself to his feet. He held out his hand towards Kirsten.

"Come on, let's walk."

Kirsten looked puzzled but accepted his hand. He pulled her to standing and they started to walk, silently at first. It was a comfortable silence, but Kirsten was desperate for him to talk.

"It's beautiful here, don't you think?" Mark spoke eventually, his eyes staring out at the ocean.

"Yeah, it is," Kirsten agreed.

"I first came here eighteen months ago. It was just after Christmas. The holidays always make things seem worse, don't you think?"

He looked across at Kirsten, who was watching him closely. "Are you sure you want to hear this?"

Kirsten nodded.

"Ten months before I came here, my partner died of cancer," Mark started.

"Your partner? You're…"

"Gay? Yes."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that," Kirsten said.

Mark smiled at her embarrassment. "It's ok."

"What was his name?"

"Tyler. He was an incredible guy. We were together for fifteen years. We would have been together forever if I'd had my way," Mark sounded bitter as he spoke. Kirsten understood; she knew how cruel cancer could be.

"Tell me about him," Kirsten encouraged him to continue.

"We met when I was 24, through mutual friends. He was in a relationship at the time, but I was immediately drawn to him. He had these beautiful green eyes," Mark sounded wistful as he spoke. "I'd always floated in and out of relationships, but as soon as I met him, I knew he was the one, you know? We became friends but I wasn't shy about letting him know I wanted more. It was hard for a while, I think sometimes I put too much pressure on him; put him in an awkward position. But I wanted to be with him so much. And you know, the perseverance paid off eventually."

Mark turned and winked at Kirsten, and she couldn't help but laugh.

"It happened one night at this little bar. We'd been out with a group of friends, but one by one they'd all left until it was just the two of us. I bought a bottle of whisky from the bar – good stuff – and we drank our way through it, talking about _everything_. It was so easy to talk to him. We ended up back and my apartment and…"

"Yeah, I don't need to know the details," Kirsten interrupted him, her cheeks blushing. Mark laughed at her.

"It was the most amazing relationship. He made my life better in so many ways. He changed my whole world."

Again, Kirsten felt like she could relate as an image of Sandy's face came into her mind.

"I'm not saying it was always perfect or easy – no relationship ever is. But it worked so well. I always thought nothing would break us. But then he got ill," Mark said.

"I'm sorry," Kirsten said, lifting her eyes.

"Me too," Mark said sadly. "After he died, I just went spiralling out of control. I didn't eat, I barely slept. I wouldn't answer the door or the phone. I just drank. It helped take the pain away."

"I get that," Kirsten murmured.

"I lost my job and I spent all my money on alcohol. When I couldn't pay my mortgage or bills any more, I lost my house. I had nothing."

"What about your family?" Kirsten enquired.

"My parents threw me out the house when I was seventeen when I told them I was gay. I tried for a couple of years to make amends with them, but they didn't want to know me. I tried one more time, a few years ago. Tyler encouraged me to talk to them. We wanted to start a family and he told me I should try and heal the cracks in my own before we started ours. They were disgusted with the idea, they told me they never wanted to see me ever again. So they won't."

Kirsten frowned, amazed that any parents could be so cruel and heartless. She thought about Seth and Ryan, and how she could never imagine turning her back on them like that.

"So how did you get here?" Kirsten asked, hoping for his sake that someone had helped him.

"When the holidays arrived, it made it all worse. I was moving from hostel to hostel; Tyler was gone; I had no job, no money; I'd lost contact with all my friends. I was living off whiskey and pretzels and whatever free meals I could get. It was early evening and I was just walking to nowhere in particular, when I saw this car that someone had left running. I don't know what I was thinking – I wasn't really thinking – so I got in and drove off. I'd never stolen anything in my life. I was _so_ stupid, I'd been drinking all day. The roads were icy and when I turned a corner, the car skidded out of control. I crashed into a shop window and I was only a few inches away from hitting this little kid, he was only about five years old. I've never been so scared my whole life. I was arrested for drink driving and the judge sent me here."

"And you've been here for eighteen months?"

"On and off. I was here for five months the first time, but as soon as I left I freaked out. I had no support system out there and I'd learnt to rely on the doctors and other patients here too much. I was back in here within a month, stayed for three, then left again. I was ok for a while, I'd found some of my old friends and I'd found a job."

He fell silent and Kirsten urged him to continue. "What happened?"

"I just wasn't happy. I'm not sure I can ever be happy again, not without Tyler. I've been in and out of here ever since. I haven't figured out how to live without him yet."

Kirsten felt guilty listening to his story. She had a husband and two sons waiting for her at home who loved her; she had friends who cared about her; she had a home and a job. Yes, life had been tough recently. She had lost her father after screaming unforgettable things to him and she felt like she had been losing everyone else who was special to her – Sandy, Seth and Ryan. But she hadn't; they were still there. They had just been unreachable for a while.

"So, that's my story," Mark said matter-of-factly. "What about you?"

Kirsten opened her mouth, wondering how she could explain to him why she was here. The truth was, she didn't have the answer yet. That was something she was still trying to figure out. She didn't have time to speak before someone else spoke first.

"Kirsten?"

They turned to see Dr Halliwell approaching them.

"I think that's my cue to leave," Mark said. "I'll see you around."

"Mark?" Kirsten called after him. He paused and turned around towards her. "Thank you."

Mark smiled and left them. Kirsten looked back towards Dr Halliwell.

"I'm sorry if I interrupted," Dr Halliwell apologised.

Kirsten shook her head. "It's ok," she said, grateful for the interruption.

"I heard about what happened. How are you feeling?" Dr Halliwell asked, gesturing towards a nearby bench.

They sat down together and Kirsten sighed.

"I thought I could do it. I thought I was getting better," she said.

"Kirsten, you are getting better. But these things take time, you can't force yourself to do these things. It'll happen when you're ready for it to happen," Dr Halliwell said.

Kirsten smiled slightly as Dr Halliwell repeated Mark's words. "I know. I just…I want to be better, I want to go home."

"I know. Everybody here feels the same as you. You just have to be patient. I promise, you'll get there in the end," Dr Halliwell tried to encourage her. "Have you thought about inviting your family here to visit next weekend?"

Kirsten nodded. "I want to see them so badly and yesterday it was all I could think about. But now, I don't know."

"Why?"

"I don't know if I want them to see me here. I mean, what if they turn up and I'm having a bad day? I don't want them to see me like this," Kirsten said.

"Don't you think they'd want to be here to support you, no matter what?"

Kirsten shrugged. "Me and Sandy, we've never been like this before. And I haven't exactly been _'Mom of the Year'_ this year."

"I think you'd be making a mistake if you didn't see them," Dr Halliwell said.

Kirsten dropped her head and Dr Halliwell studied the mass of blonde hair. She had seen it so many times – a patient would gain a little bit of confidence, only to be disappointed when they realised they had only just started their journey. But watching Kirsten, she knew she was talking to someone who wouldn't give up that easily.

"I'm going to leave you to your thoughts, but if you need me, you know where my office is. If not, I'll see you tomorrow," Dr Halliwell said.

Kirsten nodded and smiled gratefully. "Thank you."

Leaning back on the bench, Kirsten took in a deep breath of the fresh air. She lifted her head towards the sky, watching the clouds that sat high above her. When she was a little girl, she would spend hours lying on the grass in her yard watching the clouds and finding patterns in them. She looked now, distracting her mind as she tried to find outlines in the sky.

Her heart felt heavier now than it had done this morning. She had felt so positive over the weekend and now she felt like she had gone back to square one. She wasn't sure she had the energy to face all these ups and downs. Especially the downs.

But she had got this far. She was tired and weary, but she wasn't as desolate as the night she had arrived. She had taken a step forwards once before, she could do it again. She just had to learn to be patient. Hugging her arms around her body, she closed her eyes and enjoyed the warmth of the sun on her face. With that little piece of determination, she felt like she might just get through this.


	9. Another Brick In The Wall

**I'm sorry for the lack of update on this – my new job keeps me very busy! Thank you SO much for the reviews and comments, I want you to know that I read every one and that they mean a lot to me. **

**A massive thank you to Sunny for helping me – without her, this chapter would have sucked!**

**I hope you like my version of the abortion storyline!**

* * *

Kirsten approached her next counselling session with as much confidence as she could gather. As she walked the familiar corridor towards Dr Halliwell's office, she tried to push the memory of the group counselling session from her mind and concentrate on the determination she had felt at the end of the day. Her sleep had been unsettled and she covered her mouth as she yawned, pausing outside the door. She sighed, wearily, leaning against the wall and breathing in deeply. Time passed so slowly at rehab, but her counselling sessions came around so quickly; a constant weight on her shoulders. She knew they were important, but she still found them difficult. She compared herself to Sandy – he was always the talker, always willing to express how he really felt. It didn't work like that for Kirsten. She needed to trust someone first and the only person she had ever trusted enough to be able to tell everything to was Sandy; but he wasn't here. It was just her, surrounded by strangers.

She was learning to trust Dr Halliwell but it wasn't easy for her. She was starting to make a friend in Mark, but there was still so much she didn't know about him – and even more that he didn't know about her. Kirsten needed time, and time was all she had at rehab.

She took another deep breath and knocked. Dr Halliwell's voice invited her inside and Kirsten went inside. Dr Halliwell greeted her warmly.

"Hello Kirsten, how are you today?"

Kirsten nodded resiliently as she answered, "ok".

"How are you feeling about yesterday?"

Kirsten shrugged, dropping her eyes to stare at a pen at the table; avoiding the doctor's eyes. "Stupid, embarrassed, annoyed, disappointed…"

"Kirsten, believe me, you weren't the first person to have trouble speaking for the first time in a group session," Dr Halliwell comforted her.

"I know," Kirsten accepted. "But I wanted to do it. I wanted to prove that I was getting better."

"You _are_ getting better," Dr Halliwell encouraged.

"I don't know," Kirsten sighed. "Sometimes I feel like I'm actually beating this thing, and then something happens and it just hits me how hard all this is. And I know it's not supposed to be easy, but it's just so _hard_, all the time; and every time I feel like I've taken a step forwards, it's followed by two steps back and it's just so…"

"Frustrating?"

Kirsten nodded. "I need to know when it's going to be over."

"I can't answer that," Dr Halliwell said softly.

"I know."

And this was the truth that was the hardest for Kirsten to hear. If she could see the end, if she had something to focus on…if she knew when she could go home and be with her family, to lead a normal life again, it would make each day easier to get through. Instead, she was left with the knowledge that she was here indefinitely; that leaving rehab was dependent solely on _her_.

"Kirsten, are you ready?" Dr Halliwell's voice interrupted her daydream.

With a slow nod, Kirsten settled comfortably in the chair.

"The last time we met, we spoke about your sister, Hailey, and Jimmy. I want to move away from talking about other people and talk about you. You've already mentioned that you chose to study Art History at Berkeley, which your parents weren't happy about. Was that part of the reason you made the choices you did?"

Kirsten shook her head. "No. I never based my decision on what my parents wanted. I mean, I knew that what they wanted wasn't what I wanted, so they were never going to be happy with what I chose to do."

"So why did you choose Art History?"

"Because I loved it," Kirsten answered immediately. "I guess that was one of the good things about growing up in the environment I did – holidays to Paris and Italy, getting to see so much of the world. I would love it when my parents would take me to an art gallery, the pictures just fascinated me."

Kirsten's eyes flared with passion as she spoke. "I mean, out of all the paintings in the world, the greatest ones aren't always the ones that look the best or the prettiest; they're the ones that have the most feeling behind them. And it's amazing how a person can cause such a reaction just by putting a paintbrush to a piece of paper."

Kirsten looked up and saw Dr Halliwell smiling at her. She blushed. "I'm sorry, I'm getting carried away, aren't I?"

Dr Halliwell shook her head. "No, not at all." She hadn't seen Kirsten talk so passionately about anything since she had arrived, except at the mention of her husband or sons. "Do you paint yourself?"

"I used to…a little," Kirsten said. "I don't really have the time any more."

"You know, we have art classes here?"

Kirsten smiled. "I know. I've been thinking about going, but I'm not sure. I don't think I'm very good any more."

"Kirsten, you don't have to be good to go to the classes. The participation is the most important part," Dr Halliwell said.

Kirsten nodded. "I'll think about it."

"So, where do you get your creative side from: your father or your mother?"

Kirsten tilted her head to one side as she thought. "I guess it comes from my grandma – my dad's mom. My dad wasn't creative himself, but his mom was an artist. My grandpa had his own shop, he used to sell building materials. My grandma had a little room at the back where she would sell her paintings from. I remember my grandpa telling me once that people would travel from all over the state to buy her work," Kirsten smiled at the memory. "I think maybe he was exaggerating, but she was good. I have some of her paintings at home."

"So painting runs in the family?"

"I guess. My grandma used to say that artists were people who took control of their own lives – people who would draw their own paths in life, paint their own futures."

"Did you believe her?"

"Not when I was little. But looking back, I can understand what she was saying. I mean, maybe I chose art because I wanted to get away from someone else dictating my life towards a career I didn't want?" Kirsten pondered out loud.

"Your father?"

Kirsten nodded. "He wanted me to be academic, he wanted me to study business and follow in his footsteps; I wanted to be free from that, I didn't want to be the perfect girl with the expensive clothes and the manicured nails. I just wanted to be me for once, I wanted to get my hands dirty and not be afraid of breaking a nail. It sounds dumb…"

"No, it doesn't. Everybody has their reasons for making decisions, they're personal. No-one else has to understand them but you."

Kirsten smiled gratefully.

"So, you chose to study art history. Why at Berkeley?"

"Because it wasn't home," Kirsten answered. "I think part of it reminded me of home – the sun, the beach. But the people were different. They didn't judge you the way people do in Newport. I mean, they didn't even know me and I liked that."

"Did you hide your background from people?"

"Sometimes. I suppose I didn't offer the information unless people asked, and even when they did ask where I came from, I wouldn't tell them everything. I didn't want to be '_Caleb Nichol's daughter'_ at college. That's what I was trying to escape from," Kirsten justified.

"Were you ashamed of your background?"

Kirsten frowned. "No, not ashamed. I guess I was a little embarrassed. I thought that if people knew where I came from, they would see me differently. And there's more to me than being a Newpsie. I was scared that if I told people the truth, they wouldn't be able to see past that."

"So do you think you were able to be yourself at college?"

Kirsten nodded. "Eventually. I think, at first, I experimented a lot. I don't think I knew myself who the '_real me'_ was. I spent a lot of time trying to fit myself into a certain category – the bohemian, the student, the party girl – until I was happy just being me."

"What kind of experimenting did you do at college? Drugs?"

"No, never. I had friends who tried them, but I was never interested," Kirsten said. "It was just never something I wanted to try."

"But you drank?"

"I was just like any other college student. There were parties and there was beer," Kirsten said.

"Did you have the same reasons for drinking when you were at college as you did when you were younger? Wanting to forget about life for a while?"

Kirsten shook her head. "No, I was happy at college. It wasn't about that. I drank because it's what college students do."

"Were there any other reasons?"

Kirsten paused, thinking about the question. "I think…sometimes I think I drank because it made me feel free. I could leave all my inhibitions behind and just enjoy myself."

"The alcohol helped you to relax?"

"Yes, I suppose it did. You know, you go to college and there's such an eclectic group of people there. You spend so much time trying to fit in and you find yourself competing with people; not academically, but you meet so many intriguing people and you want to be intriguing yourself. Kids put too much importance on being different…special."

"You didn't feel special when you weren't drinking?"

Kirsten shook her head, amused at the way Dr Halliwell could always twist her words. "It was just easier after a couple of beers," Kirsten admitted.

"What about guys? Did you have many boyfriends at college?"

"No, not until I met Sandy in my third year," Kirsten said. "I went on dates, but there was no-one serious. I loved my course and I suppose I spent a lot of time studying to get good grades. People always called me an over-achiever; I always put too much pressure on myself to do well."

Dr Halliwell looked up, a hint of surprise in her face. "What about your abortion?"

Kirsten looked shocked at the mention of something she had kept hidden for so long. "How did you know about that?"

"I have a copy of your medical records," Dr Halliwell explained. "It says you had an abortion when you were 19 years old?"

Kirsten dropped her head, a frown creasing her forehead. She had never known that it was kept on her medical record. She fell silent as her mind spun uncontrollably. She knew she was going to have to tell the doctor about what happened and it wasn't a story she had ever told before – not even to Sandy. It was a memory that still haunted her sometimes; one that she had tried hard to forget but one that was always there at the back of her mind.

"Kirsten?"

Kirsten looked up at Dr Halliwell slowly.

"Can we talk about it please?"

"It was a mistake," Kirsten said coldly.

"What happened?"

Kirsten was silent again.

"Kirsten, this is important."

Kirsten inhaled deeply before she spoke, wringing her hands in her lap.

"I was at a party with my friends. They'd all been telling me that I was too uptight, that I should enjoy myself more. What they really meant was that I should find a guy to hook up with. They all used to hook up with guys all the time, and that was fine – it's not like I was a prude. But it just wasn't something I wanted to do. Maybe I was just naïve or inexperienced, I don't know, but sleeping with someone meant more to me than just a one-night stand," Kirsten started to explaining, finding that that the words fell from her mouth easier than she expected. "So we went to this party, and I got drunk, and there was this guy…my friends just kept pushing and pushing me. And he was nice, you know? He took the time to ask about me and my life; but we both knew what he wanted. We went back to his dorm room and we were fooling around, and it happened. I shouldn't have let it happen, but it did. It was a mistake."

"How much had you had to drink?"

Kirsten fought away the tears that started to form. "I don't know. We'd been drinking cocktails before the party and I probably had some beer while I was there. I remember him pulling out a bottle of tequila when we were back in his room, but it's all too much of a mess in my mind. I don't know."

"Do you remember having sex with him?"

Kirsten winced slightly in her chair. Her eyes were closed as she nodded her head.

"Did you want it to happen?"

Dr Halliwell could see her physically shrinking as she asked these questions.

"I just wanted my friends to shut up," Kirsten admitted.

"Kirsten, did you say no? It's really important that you tell me."

Tears started to spill down her cheeks, but her arms were firmly wrapped tightly around her body. She shook her head. "It wasn't like that. He didn't do anything wrong. He didn't force himself on me."

"Did you say no?"

Dr Halliwell needed to hear her answer.

Kirsten buried her face in her hands. "Only in my head."

"Why didn't you tell him to stop?"

"I don't know," Kirsten cried. "I just wanted to feel special. There hadn't been anyone since Jimmy and I missed that feeling."

"And how did it feel, sleeping with this guy? Did he make you feel special?"

Kirsten shook her head again. "I felt dirty and ashamed. I couldn't even remember his name."

Dr Halliwell waited patiently until she was calm again before continuing her questions. "Did you see him again afterwards?"

"No. I could have tracked him down if I wanted to, but I didn't. I didn't want to ever see him again," Kirsten said.

"How did you feel when you found out you were pregnant?"

"I was scared; I was horrified. I was 19 and at college and pregnant. That wasn't what I wanted, that wasn't how I wanted life to turn out," Kirsten said, clearly rattled.

"So you chose to have an abortion?"

Kirsten nodded. "I wasn't ready to have a child and be a mother. It's not I wanted," she repeated. "I wanted to be a student; I wanted to be at college, learning about art and enjoying myself."

"How did you feel about the abortion?"

"It wasn't exactly my proudest moment. I was disgusted with myself that I'd got myself into that situation," Kirsten answered. "I still remember every minute in that waiting room. I felt like everyone was staring at me and judging me, and I deserved it because I'd got myself into such a mess."

"You went alone to the clinic?"

Kirsten nodded, yes. "I couldn't tell my family; and I didn't want to tell my friends. I was too ashamed, too embarrassed."

"Did you drink more after the abortion?"

"I did for a while. I wanted to forget about it, but I couldn't stop thinking about it. I felt guilty for a long time, but when I drank, it made me forget," Kirsten admitted. She was starting to see a pattern in her drinking; the way the alcohol pushed out all the bad things from her mind and lulled her into a world that didn't really exist – but a world where she was more at ease.

"How long did that last?"

"Until I met Sandy," Kirsten smiled slightly at the mention of her husband.

"Did you tell him what had happened?"

Kirsten shook her head. "No. I couldn't. I didn't want to," she said plainly. "When I met Sandy, I wanted to put it behind me. What was the point in dragging it up again? I wanted to move on from that mistake."

"Have you ever spoken about it since?"

"Only once, last year. Ryan got a girl pregnant – or at least we thought he did. Teresa was younger than I was, only 17, and she made the decision to have an abortion without having anyone around her for support. It reminded me of what I went through and I shared with her that I'd been through something similar. I wanted her to know that she had options."

"Did you tell her what happened?"

"No, it didn't feel important. It wasn't about me and what I'd been through; it was about Teresa and Ryan, and trying to help them make the best decision for themselves," Kirsten said.

"And what did she decide to do?"

"She decided to keep the baby, and we almost lost Ryan because of it," Kirsten said.

"What do you mean?"

"When Teresa decided to keep the baby, Ryan went back to Chino with her. He felt like he had to stand by her. Losing Ryan almost tore our family apart," Kirsten said.

"But he came home eventually?"

"Teresa lost the baby and Ryan came home," Kirsten said simply.

"Is Teresa the only person you've ever told?"

Kirsten nodded. "I choose not to talk about it, because I don't need to," she justified.

"Do you still think about it?"

"Sometimes, I guess. Only if something reminds me of it. I remember being sat in the waiting room at the clinic and the radio was on, and they were playing Pink Floyd's '_Another Brick In The Wall'_ – Seth has the CD and when I hear the song, I remember."

"And how does that make you feel?"

"Sad. I feel sad," Kirsten admitted.

"Do you find yourself still reaching for a bottle when you think about it?"

Kirsten pondered the question for a moment. "No, I don't think so. It happened a long time ago and I've learnt do cope with how I feel about it. When I drink – when I used to drink – I was trying to escape. When I think about the abortion…I've already escaped from that."

"How do you know you've escaped from it?"

"I just know. When I think about it, I don't feel guilty any more," Kirsten answered. "Just sad."

"You don't have any regrets?"

Kirsten looked her directly in the eye. "I regret that it happened, that I had to do what I did; but no, I don't regret the abortion. How can I? I wouldn't have the life I have now if I'd kept the child – there'd be no Sandy, no Seth, no Ryan. You can't expect me to regret that."

"I don't. But it's important to know how you feel. This was a huge thing to happen to you, and a huge thing to keep to yourself for so long."

Kirsten shrugged her shoulders. "I can't hold on to the past like that. Isn't that what you want me to do with my dad?"

"Yes, it is – and you're right, it is important for you to let the past go. But I need to make sure that it's what you've done; I need to make sure that you're not just suppressing your feelings about the abortion."

"So, how do you know?" Kirsten asked.

Dr Halliwell smiled. "Because you just told me; and I believe you."

Kirsten frowned curiously at her. Sometimes, she just couldn't figure Dr Halliwell out. "So that's it?"

"Is there anything else to say?"

Kirsten shook her head. Dr Halliwell saw her confusion.

"Kirsten, what happened to you was horrible, and a part of me was worried that you hadn't really come to terms with what happened. But I've heard you talk today and I can see that you've already dealt with that night, and the consequences of it. You've already done my job."

Kirsten dropped back in her chair, thinking about the doctor's words. She fell silent.

"What are you thinking about?"

"I'm thinking…" she paused for a moment, searching for the words to explain. "I'm wondering why I changed. I mean, I dealt with this huge thing all by myself when I was 19 years old and I survived. Twenty years later, and something bad happens, and I hide away behind a bottle. I don't understand."

"Well, from what Sandy told me and from what we've discussed, your drinking problem can't be blamed on one event. Yes, your father's death brought you to your worst, but I believe it's a culmination of a lot of things that made you rely on alcohol and the feeling it gave you," Dr Halliwell said. "By talking about all this, we're going to figure it out. And the fact that you can be honest with me with your answer, _that's_ the reason I say you're getting better."

Dr Halliwell smiled gently at Kirsten.

"I think we're done talking today," Dr Halliwell announced, satisfied with Kirsten's progress during the session. "We'll continue talking on Friday. It's a big weekend for you, with your family coming to visit."

Kirsten nodded half-heartedly.

"I can see you're still questioning whether to see them?"

"I just don't know if I can," Kirsten admitted. "I've let them down enough already, I don't want to keep doing that."

"Kirsten, for the next few days, I want you to do something for me. I want you to imagine that your roles are reversed. What if it was Sandy sat in that chair? I want you to go away and think about how you would feel; about what you want for yourself and for your sons; and, more importantly, what you would want for Sandy. And on Friday, I want us to talk about that, ok?"

Kirsten nodded at her instructions. "Ok," she agreed. She lifted herself to her feet and left the room, leaving Dr Halliwell alone.

Sitting back in her chair, Dr Halliwell picked up her dictaphone, her usual practice after every counselling session she had with her patients. She would repeat the progress they had made, or hadn't made, voicing her opinions and concerns. Before she had chance to click the record button, her telephone began to ring.

"Hello?"

"Dr Halliwell?" a deep voice greeted her. "This is Sandy Cohen."

Dr Halliwell couldn't help but smile. _How did he know?_

"Sandy, how are you?" she asked, her voice full of concern.

"I'm ok," Sandy brushed aside his own feelings. "How's Kirsten?"

"She's doing ok," Dr Halliwell said.

On the other end of the phone, Sandy was well aware of the importance of doctor-patient confidentiality, but it frustrated him. One phone call from Kirsten was all he'd had since she had been in rehab – and he hadn't even been there to talk to her. He had replayed the message so many times, just to hear her voice; trying to read her tone.

_Was she ok? Was she looking after herself? Was she getting better? _

_Did she hate him for what he had done?_

He was desperate to see her: to hold her; to smell the scent of her hair; to feel her lips pressed against his. He had been counting the hours – the minutes – until he knew he could see her. Six days.

"Is she getting better?" Sandy was straight to the point. He wanted her home.

"These things take time. Kirsten's got a big struggle ahead of her and we've only just begun," Dr Halliwell said gently.

"I know," Sandy said. "I know that, I just…did I do the right thing, bringing her to you?"

"What do you think?"

She heard Sandy sigh down the phone. For once, he didn't have the answer. He needed to hear it from someone else. "I don't know."

"Sandy, I think you did the right thing," Dr Halliwell told him. "I can't tell you what we've discussed, but I can tell you that Kirsten is making progress. She's got a lot of demons to fight, but she is fighting them. She's trying really hard and it's because of you and your sons. You give her a lot of strength."

Sandy felt relief wash through him at the doctor's words. "What about Sunday? Has she talked about us coming to visit?"

Dr Halliwell pursed her lips. She couldn't share with him Kirsten's concerns about the weekend, but she didn't want to get his hopes up.

"A little," she answered, purposely vague. "Are you coming?"

"Of course," Sandy answered immediately. "We'll all be here."

"That's good. I'll make sure she knows that," Dr Halliwell smiled at his enthusiasm.

She heard a voice call out to him from his end of the phone.

"I'm sorry, I have to go," Sandy said, a little rushed. "Please, tell her we're coming on Sunday; that we can't wait to see her. And tell her…tell her I love her?"

"I will," Dr Halliwell said. "Take care, Sandy."

She dropped the telephone back in its cradle and paused to stare at it for a moment. She hoped that, with Sandy's words of encouragement, Kirsten would be persuaded to see them on Sunday. She made a note to remind Kirsten of the conversation in their next session.

Unfortunately, the next counselling session never came. Kirsten woke on Friday morning to a chorus of drunken singing from outside her window as one of her fellow patients fell off the wagon with an almighty bump.

"_Jeremiah was a bullfrog…was a good friend of mine…"_

The out-of-tune singer, who paused every now and again to take another swig of whiskey from the bottle he waved in his hands, kept Dr Halliwell busy all day.

When Sunday arrived, she didn't know what Kirsten was thinking.

**

* * *

A/N – it was pointed out to me by Sunny that the abortion probably wouldn't have been on Kirsten's medical records – mostly because she probably would have paid in cash to avoid it! But I kept it the way it is because I wanted it to play out the way it did. Call it artistic license! ;)**

**The next chapter will focus on Sandy, Seth and Ryan (finally!) – I'll try and update quicker but I make no promises. Thanks for reading…I'd love to hear what you think!**


	10. The Ties That Bind

**Thank you SO much for all the reviews that you leave – it's great to know that people are reading and enjoying this fic.**

**Big thank you to Sunny for beta-ing for me, as always. :)**

* * *

Sandy studied himself in the mirror. His messy hair was combed neatly for the first time in almost three weeks. He had shaved, getting rid of the stubble that had been a permanent feature since she had been gone. He was wearing the blue tie she always said matched his eyes. He took a deep breath, pushing his shoulders back and puffing out his chest. He wished he felt as confident as he was trying to look. Dark circles hung under his eyes and he sighed, fighting exhaustion.

It had been 18 days since he had seen her last but she had been in his mind constantly from the moment he had left her. He had been waiting for this day for so long and his body shivered with nerves at the thought of seeing her again.

He hoped she understood why.

Their sons didn't. He knew they missed her; he knew they were disappointed that he hadn't given them chance to say goodbye; he knew they were angry that he hadn't trusted them enough to help her through it themselves.

They needed her, now more than ever. Sandy needed her at night; when it was dark and silent, and his mind wouldn't stop, he needed her to hold onto and ease him into a slumber. Ryan needed her in the mornings; when he woke from his nightmares, he needed her calming presence and understanding silence. Seth needed her all the time; when life got too much, he needed to hear her gentle laugh and feel her soothing hand ruffling his hair.

Straightening his tie for the fourth time, he took a deep breath before making his way to the kitchen. Seth and Ryan sat in silence. Seth's eyes were glazed as he stared at the open newspaper in front of him, and Sandy knew he wasn't really reading it. Ryan sat at the kitchen island, pushing his cereal around his bowl and Sandy knew he had barely eaten any of it.

"Morning boys," he greeted them, his voice carrying a forced cheerfulness.

They both looked up at him, acknowledging his presence with glum hellos. He could see the anxiousness in their faces, which mirrored his own feelings.

"Are you guys ready?"

They both paused, staring at him for him a moment, wondering how long they could delay the inevitable.

"Listen…" Sandy started.

Ryan moved his chair backwards noisily, wanting to avoid one of Sandy's speeches. He had heard a lot of them the last couple of weeks. "I'm gonna grab my jacket."

Sandy sighed and watched him hurry out to the poolhouse, before turning his attention back to Seth.

"You alright son?" he asked.

Seth nodded slowly. "Is it wrong that I'm…I'm scared?" Seth asked, his voice small.

"No," Sandy shook his head. "I think we're all scared."

Seth nodded, appreciating his father's honesty. Ryan came back into the kitchen, his jacket in his hand. It was too warm to wear it.

"Come on, let's go," Sandy took command, herding them out of the kitchen.

The journey to the rehab centre was quiet. Sandy was glad of the distraction of driving. Seth's fingers fiddled nervously with the radio, unable to keep still. In the rear view mirror, Sandy could see Ryan staring out of the window.

Ryan was conscious of Sandy's eyes watching him and he stared harder, refusing to meet his eye. He didn't really see the passing scenery though. In his mind, that night repeated over and over in his head – Trey, Marissa and the gun. The screams replayed in his ears; the blood haunted his vision. As hard as he tried, he couldn't push the memory from his mind. Sandy wanted to talk about it, he said it would help. _Talk to who? _Marissa refused to speak about that night and it was impossible to talk to Trey. Sandy hadn't been there and Seth didn't understand.

It was tearing apart his family – the family he had spent the last two years struggling to fit in to. When he had returned from Chino last summer, he had seen how happy they had been to have him back and he knew he had finally made it. But then Trey had arrived and slowly he had seen it all unravel. Now, Sandy was wrestling with the DA to protect Marissa from being charged with a felony, while struggling to cope with family life on his own; Seth was distant and quiet, barely able to look him in the eye any more; and Kirsten was in rehab, dealing with her own problems. It was a very different family than the one that he had joined two years ago.

_How could he start to explain how he felt about that?_

It was only when they pulled into the grounds of the centre that someone spoke.

"Where is she?" Seth asked. He had expected her to be waiting, her arms open like they had been last year when he had returned from Portland. He wanted to see her smiling face and dancing eyes, and to feel her happy embrace at seeing her little boy.

He wasn't the only one with those thoughts. Both Sandy and Ryan had been watching…waiting for that first glimpse of her.

"I don't know. Maybe she's inside," Sandy suggested. Deep down, his heart sunk. He had a bad feeling about this.

They walked together and to anyone watching, they would look like a tight family unit – walking in sync up the steps. But they all knew differently. The past few weeks had pushed them further apart than they had ever been.

Sandy's eyes searched for his wife as they passed the groups of patients with their family and friends. He recognised the woman behind the reception. She was the one who had been there when he had brought her here. Julia.

She looked up as they approached.

"Can I help you?"

"Hi. We're here to see Kirsten Cohen," Sandy said.

He saw the frown that creased her forehead momentarily. "Uh…" she murmured as she started to flick through the papers in front of her.

Ryan saw it too. "Is something wrong?"

When Julia looked up, they all saw the sympathetic look that she threw them. "I'm sorry. Mrs Cohen isn't accepting visitors."

The three men stared dumbfounded at her.

"What do you mean, she's not accepting visitors?" Seth was the first one to break the awkward silence.

"I mean, she's asked not to see anyone right now," Julia said cautiously.

"But we're her family," Seth argued. "She's my mom, I want to see her."

"I'm sorry, sweetheart, but your mom doesn't want to see anyone."

"Not even us?" Ryan asked, the hurt apparent in his voice.

Julia shook her head. "Nobody."

"But why?" Seth continued to argue.

"I don't know," Julia said gently.

"Are you sure there's not been a mistake?" Sandy asked hopefully.

Julia shook her head again. "I'm sorry."

"Can't you just tell her that we're here? Maybe she'd change her mind if she knew we were here," Seth's voice was desperate now.

"Seth," Sandy interrupted, placing a hand on his son's shoulder. Seth shrugged it off.

"No. I don't accept it. She'd want to see us. Why doesn't she want to see us?"

"Sometimes a person just needs to have some space," Julia offered.

Sandy noted the irony as she repeated the words he had spoken himself last year as they had argued about bringing Seth home. It hurt to hear them. It hurt to think that she didn't want to see them as much as they wanted to see her; that she didn't need them the way they needed her. It scared him to think that she didn't know that they were there for her; whatever she needed to get better they would give her. _How could he tell her that if she refused to see them?_

"Come on, son, let's go," Sandy said, defeated. Apart from forcing his way into the building, there was nothing he could do.

"That's it? You're just going to give up?" Seth asked.

"I'm not giving up on her, Seth…" Sandy started.

"No, you already did that when you brought her here," Seth spat.

Sandy was aware of the faces that turned towards them as Seth took his frustration out on him. He lowered his voice as he spoke authoritatively at his son. "That's enough. We're going."

Seth and Ryan stared at him, amazed at how easily he had backed down. He held the door open, his eyes ordering them to leave. They obeyed, their heads lowered as they avoided the pitiful glances that they were receiving from everyone watching. Nothing was said until they were in the car, out of earshot from the prying world.

"I don't understand," Seth said plainly. "I don't understand why she wouldn't want to see us. And I don't understand why you don't care enough to fight to see her."

"I'm not discussing this with you here," Sandy said, his tone ending the conversation.

The journey home was full of angry silence. Not even the radio played to cover the hurt and confusion that enveloped them all. Seth sulked all the way home, the anger building up inside of him the whole ride home and finally exploding the moment they walked through the front door.

"I can't believe you!" Seth cried before Sandy had even closed the door.

Sandy sighed. "What was I supposed to do, Seth?"

"I don't know. Something – _anything_. How could you just walk away like that?" Seth answered.

Sandy saw the confusion in his son's eyes and approached him, but Seth pulled away.

"Why did you do it? Why did you send her away?" he asked.

"I didn't send her away, Seth. I took her somewhere to help her," Sandy tried to explain.

"But _we_ could have helped her. You didn't need to ship her off to rehab. Why didn't you just ask her to stop?"

"I tried, Seth! Don't you think I tried?" Sandy snapped, exasperated with his son's ignorance. "She needs help – help that we can't give her. There's more to this than you know and maybe if you hadn't been so wrapped up in your own life this past year, you'd have noticed that."

As soon as he had said it, he regretted it. He saw the hurt that crossed Seth's face.

"Seth, I'm sorry. I didn't mean…"

Seth backed away from his father. "Tell me," he said, quietly.

"What?"

"Tell me. If there's been so much going on, why don't you tell me? Tell me why you and mom have been fighting all year? Tell me why mom was so mad at you on Valentine's Day? Tell me why you've both been working so much?" Seth retaliated.

He had seen more than Sandy had realised. Sandy was silent. He didn't know how to respond to that. Rebecca, Carter…he wouldn't know _how_ to explain them, not to his son.

"So what happens now?" Seth asked when Sandy didn't respond.

"I don't know," Sandy was tired of always being expected to know the answers. "I guess, when she's ready to see us, she'll call."

_He hoped._

Seth dropped his head and turned on his heel. "I have to call Summer," he mumbled.

With a heavy sigh, Sandy turned to look at Ryan, who had been silent during their exchange. He was surprised to the door left open and an empty space where he had previously been stood. Sandy frowned and started towards the door. As he did, he heard the sound of a car engine. He rushed out the front door just in time to see Ryan speeding off in the Range Rover.

"Ryan!" he tried calling after him. But it was too late. He was gone.

* * *

Kirsten was sat in the alcove of her bedroom again, overlooking the gardens. She watched the groups of people moving around – some laughing, some crying.

Today was the day she was supposed to see them.

But instead of being out there, with her family, she had chosen to hide upstairs – away from reality. She knew they wouldn't understand but she hoped they would forgive her.

She had done as Dr Halliwell had instructed – all week, she had imagined how she would feel if it was Sandy here, and she was on the outside. She understood the point of the exercise. She knew Dr Halliwell was pushing for her to see her family. But she still had that niggling feeling; the feeling that they would be angry with her. Because if the roles were reversed, she knew she'd be angry at Sandy – for leaving her, for not being able to fight this, for letting her down.

She didn't want to face that. She wasn't ready, she didn't feel strong enough yet.

She still felt lost.

A knock on the door caused her to turn her face away from the window. Julia's head appeared.

"Uh, Kirsten, one of your sons is here. He's very upset. He's refusing to leave until he speaks to you," she said cautiously.

Kirsten's heart jumped a beat. She frowned, guessing it to be Seth. She knew he would be the one who had the most trouble understanding.

"I can't," she said, too afraid of what might be said.

"Kirsten, I really think you need to see him. For his sake, more than yours," Julia coaxed her.

Kirsten heard the concern in her voice and it worried her, her maternal instincts persuading her to stand up and walk across the room, encouraging her as she followed Julia through the building and towards a private room.

She paused outside the door. She wasn't ready for this, but something inside of her told her that she _had_ to do it. With a deep breath, she opened the door and walked inside.

"Ryan?"

The surprise was evident in her voice when she saw him standing in the corner of the room. His posture was rigid, his fists curled in tight balls. His eyes flared when he saw her.

"Ryan, what's wrong?" Kirsten asked immediately. Something wasn't right.

"Why did you send us away today?" Ryan asked outright.

Kirsten sighed. She had expected this from Seth, even Sandy – but not Ryan. This was what she had wanted to avoid.

"Ryan, sweetie, it's complicated…" she started.

"No, it's not. Why did you send us away today?" Ryan repeated his question.

"I just need some time," Kirsten tried to explain.

"And what about us?" Ryan asked. "What about what we want? Did you even think about us?"

"Of course I did," Kirsten argued.

"So why did you do it? We came all this way to see you. We wanted to see you, we _needed_ to see you," Ryan said.

"Ryan, you're scaring me," Kirsten said. His ramblings were making her nervous. "What's going on?"

"This wasn't supposed to happen. Not again."

Kirsten cowered. She knew he was thinking about his mom.

"Oh, Ryan, I'm so sorry," Kirsten said, taking a step towards him. He shrank backwards away from her.

"That's what _she_ used to say. She was always sorry. But it didn't stop; she always went back to the drink. She said she was sorry, but she didn't mean it. Words aren't enough," Ryan told her.

"Ryan, please," Kirsten begged.

"Everybody leaves," Ryan stated. "My dad, my mom, Teresa, Lindsey…and now Trey…"

"Trey's gone?" Kirsten questioned as his voice trailed off.

Ryan finally looked her in the eyes. "Trey's dead."

Kirsten gasped in shock. "Dead?"

Ryan nodded. She could see his body shaking.

"Ryan…" she inched closer to him.

"Trey's gone, and Sandy and Seth keep arguing, and it's all a mess, and we need you at home," Ryan said.

Kirsten was still moving towards him, edging closer until she could reach out to him. She pulled him into her arms. He fought against her at first, muttering under his breath.

"We need you…I need you."

"I'm here, Ryan. I won't leave you, I promise," Kirsten whispered in his ear as she held onto him tightly.

"I'm here."

* * *

Sandy was pacing the floor, waiting anxiously for Ryan to come home. It had been nearly four hours and he was starting to get worried. He didn't know what frame of mind Ryan was in right now – about Kirsten, about Trey. He refused to talk about it, no matter how hard Sandy pushed.

The telephone started to ring and Sandy's head jerked up. He raced to answer it.

"Ryan?"

There was silence on the other end.

"Ryan, is that you?"

There was a pause before he heard the soft, familiar voice that he had only heard in his dreams for the past 18 days. "It's me."

"Kirsten."

There was an awkward silence between them, before Kirsten spoke first.

"He was here," she said.

"Ryan?"

"Yeah. He left about twenty minutes ago.He told me about Trey," Kirsten said. "Is everyone ok?"

She knew it was a stupid question. _How could everything be ok?_

Sandy didn't answer straight away. He wondered how much Ryan had told her. Did she know about the fight? Did she know about Marissa?

"It's…we're doing ok," he said eventually.

"What happened?" Kirsten asked, answering Sandy's question. _She didn't know_.

"Trey got himself in trouble. He got shot," Sandy answered vaguely, leaving out the most important details: that Marissa killed him before he killed Ryan.

"Should I be worried?" Kirsten asked bluntly.

Sandy wished he could be honest with her. He wanted to tell her everything; to confide in her with his worries and fears; to share the burden with her. But he couldn't.

"I'm dealing with it," he told her.

Kirsten accepted his answer, trusting him. Another awkward silence fell between them. He wanted to ask about today; she knew what he was thinking.

"I'm sorry about this afternoon," Kirsten was the first to speak again. "I didn't mean to hurt you."

"I don't understand," Sandy said, hoping for an explanation.

Kirsten sighed. "I just…I just need to be on my own for a while," she said. "I'm sorry if that sounds selfish."

"I want to help you through this," Sandy told her.

Kirsten closed her eyes, blinking back tears. "I know. But…I think I need to do this on my own. It's like…I don't know, it's like I've got so used to being part of '_Kirsten and Sandy'_ that I've forgotten what it's like to be '_Kirsten'_. Does that make sense?"

"A little," Sandy lied.

"Don't take that the wrong way, please. I still want to be part of '_Kirsten and Sandy'_, more than anything. Thinking about you and the boys is the only thing that gets me through each day," Kirsten tried to reassure him.

"So what happens now?" Sandy repeated Seth's question from earlier.

"I'll call you," Kirsten promised.

"I'll be waiting," Sandy said.

And that was enough. To know that he would still be there when she came out the other end gave Kirsten the strength she needed to get through rehab, to fight her demons and to find her way back to the strong, independent woman she once was.

A noise behind him made Sandy turn and found Seth listening.

"Is that mom? Can I talk to her?" Seth asked.

Sandy hesitated.

"It's ok, put him on," Kirsten told him.

Sandy held out the phone to Seth, who snatched it from him quickly.

"Mom?"

"Hey sweetie," Kirsten's voice was soft.

"Are you ok?" Seth asked.

"I'm doing ok," Kirsten answered gently. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I guess," Seth said. "I'm sorry, mom."

"I'm sorry too. About today," Kirsten said. "It's not that I didn't want to see you. I just have a lot to work out before I'm ready."

"I'm sorry this happened. I wish I could change things, get you out of there," Seth said

"Seth, it's ok. I'm where I need to be," Kirsten admitted to him.

"No," Seth denied. "It didn't have to go this far."

"Your dad did the right thing, Seth," Kirsten told him.

"How? By sending you away?"

"By getting me the help I need," Kirsten said.

"But we could have helped you," Seth argued.

"No, you couldn't. I wouldn't have let you," Kirsten said.

"I know I haven't been the best son all year," Seth said.

"You certainly know how to keep life interesting," Kirsten smiled down the phone at him.

"I'm so sorry, mom," Seth apologised.

On the other end, Kirsten shook her head. "No. _I_ was the one who chose to drink. I should be the one who is sorry – for putting you all through this. Well, now I choose to get better. And I will get better."

"What's it like there?" Seth asked curiously.

"It's ok. It's hard, but it's ok. They have cooking lessons, I'm thinking of practising my kitchen skills," Kirsten said, attempting to lighten the conversation.

"Really? Have you warned them to keep the fire department on speed dial?" Seth joked.

Kirsten smiled, relieved to hear his normal quick-witted banter.

"Well, maybe when I'm home, we'll have less takeaways," Kirsten said.

"When will you be coming home?" Seth asked.

"I don't know," Kirsten said gently.

"Soon?"

"I don't know," Kirsten repeated.

She heard him sigh down the phone. From behind him, Seth felt Sandy's hand on his back, coaxing the phone back from him.

"Dad wants to talk. Will you call again soon?" Seth asked.

"Yes, I will, I promise," Kirsten said.

"I love you, mom," Seth said quietly.

"I love you too," Kirsten smiled at his words. It had been a long time since she'd heard them.

She waited patiently until she heard Sandy's voice again. "Hey."

"Hey. I should go," Kirsten said, suddenly feeling reluctant to say goodbye. "Will you call and leave a message when Ryan gets home? He should be there soon."

"Of course," Sandy agreed, wishing she would stay and talk for longer. "I'll talk to you soon?"

"I'll call," Kirsten promised. "I love you."

"Oh, honey, I love you too," Sandy said.

"Bye."

"Bye."

Sandy hit the red button and stared momentarily at the phone, before turning to Seth.

"You ok?"

Seth nodded, pleased to have been able to talk to her for just a few minutes. "I'm sorry, about earlier," Seth said.

Sandy pulled him into a hug. "It's ok, son. We're going to get through this."

The front door opened behind them and a weary-looking Ryan appeared. His hair was dishevelled and his face drawn, but he looked calmer than Sandy had seen him for a long time. Whatever had been said between Ryan and Kirsten, he knew she had reached him. He held out his arm and pulled him into the hug, holding both his boys close.

"We're going to get through this," he repeated. "Together."


	11. One Step At A Time

**Long time, no update.** **Life got busy and I got too easily distracted with one-shots. I hope there are still people interested in this fic. Thank you for all the reviews of the last chapter, I really do appreciate every one of them.**

**Thank you to Sunny for her help and encouragement! **

**I hope it was worth the wait! **

* * *

Kirsten's mind replayed the day over and over as she tried to sleep on Sunday night. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Ryan's drawn face, heard Sandy's sad voice and Seth's desperate pleas. It tore her apart to know that they had been going through such a nightmare and that she wasn't there to support them. Ryan's words haunted her: the comparison with his own mother; his anger at her absence from home; his fear at being left alone again. Seth mirrored that fear, she had heard it in his voice when she had spoken to him. And Sandy had sounded so sad and tired.

It caused a surge of emotions inside of her – mostly guilt. Ryan was right, she should be at home with her family. But instead, she was hiding away in rehab. Yes, she was working hard in her counselling sessions to overcome her addiction; but she never should have got to this point in the first place. She should have been strong enough to say no when she was offered that second…third…fourth glass of wine. Strong enough for her family and for herself.

All she could do now was to learn how to make things right. Her biggest fear was that she would never be able to do that; that they would never accept her apologies and they would never forgive her. It was these fears that kept her awake at night; that caused her mind to spin; that filled her eyes with tears. She was tired of the internal struggle she always seemed to be fighting and her heart ached for the end of this never-ending battle.

Sandy had promised her that he would be waiting for her. Those few spoken words had given her more comfort and more hope than anyone at rehab had been able to give her. But until she was walking out of these doors, she knew she would continue to feel torn and unsettled.

Exhaustion had eventually lulled her into a slumber. Kirsten woke on Monday morning with a heavy head. She had become quiet again in her group sessions, scared at trying to participate after her first attempt. She remained withdrawn from the people around her, so different from the sociable Newpsie she had once been. It didn't bother her. The only company she wanted was her family, and until she had won the war against her addiction, she would have to live with the guilt of separation when she knew she was needed more than ever at home.

For once, she awaited her next counselling session in anticipation. She _needed_ to talk. She had so many jumbled thoughts that she didn't know how to process. Dr Halliwell had a way of making her talk and Kirsten couldn't deny that talking in her counselling sessions had started to help make sense of the thoughts and feelings she had.

Dr Halliwell was surprised to see Kirsten arrive on time. She had heard from Julia about Ryan's visit.

"Kirsten, come in, sit down," she greeted her warmly. "I'm sorry about Friday's session, things got very crazy."

"I heard," Kirsten said, remembering the noise that had woken her. "Does that…does that happen a lot?"

"What?"

"People failing, even here in rehab?" Kirsten was nervous about the answer she might hear.

"Yes, sometimes it happens," Dr Halliwell answered honestly.

Kirsten nodded silently, falling back in her seat.

"How does that make you feel?"

Kirsten looked up, meeting her eyes. "Scared. It makes me feel scared."

"Why?"

"Because it's not supposed to happen here. I mean, every day I still think about drinking, but I haven't because…I don't know, I think because I know I can't while I'm here. I'm so scared of failing when I leave and I'm out there on my own; but I thought I was safe in here," Kirsten answered.

"Believe me, Kirsten, it takes a lot to fail in rehab. We pride ourselves in having a great support system here – and usually a great security system," Dr Halliwell joked lightly, before turning serious. "And when you leave, you'll be ready to face that challenge. And you won't be on your own. You'll have support: an AA sponsor, and more importantly, you'll have your family.

"I guess."

Dr Halliwell leaned back in her chair. Kirsten had learnt that this was the sign that she was ready to begin the counselling session and she took a deep breath, anticipating the question that was coming.

"Tell me about what happened on Sunday."

"I couldn't do it," Kirsten said simply. "I wasn't ready to see them."

"Why not?"

"It was everything. I was scared about what they would think and say; I didn't want to see them looking so disappointed, or hurt, or angry. Because I know they are and they have every right to be," Kirsten admitted.

"Don't you think that confronting that would help you?"

Kirsten shook her head. "I don't feel strong enough yet. When it happens – when I see them – I want to be ready."

"But you saw Ryan?"

"He came back," Kirsten said softly.

"Why?"

"His brother died. He was angry and scared and upset," Kirsten answered.

"But why do you think he came back to see _you_?"

Kirsten was surprised by the question. "I don't know."

"Does he normally talk to you about his problems?"

"No," Kirsten shook her head. "Ryan isn't much of a talker; it's hard sometimes to get him to tell you what he's thinking. You have to push him, and I guess Sandy has always been better at that than I have."

"Do you normally let Sandy do the parenting?"

"I try not to, but the boys have always seemed to find it easier to talk to him. I used to feel like Sandy was the good guy and I was the one who had to come down hard on them."

"And how do you feel now?"

"I feel like I haven't really been a part of my sons' lives for a while. I let things go, I became too wrapped up in myself and my marriage to notice how they were really doing," Kirsten admitted.

The words that she had screamed at her father echoed in her mind: '_I am a good mother!'_

But was she?

Dr Halliwell could see her drifting into her thoughts and she pulled her back.

"But Ryan chose to talk to you this time."

"And I should be happy about that, right? But I'm not. I'm just worried about him; about all of them. Why isn't he talking to Sandy? Or Seth? I don't understand why it happened in the first place and I'm so frustrated that I'm here and I can't be with them," Kirsten barely took a breath as she admitted her thoughts.

"You feel guilty?"

"Of course I do. I hate being here and not knowing what's going on in their lives," Kirsten said. "Especially Ryan. This wasn't supposed to happen to him again."

"What do you mean?"

Kirsten sighed. "When Sandy first brought Ryan home, it was because he had nowhere else to go. His dad was in prison and his mom, Dawn, was a mess – she was an alcoholic too. She had kicked him out of the house and then just disappeared, leaving him just a note saying that she'd gone. I pushed Sandy to find her even though Ryan didn't want to and Sandy was reluctant. But I thought it was the right thing to do for Ryan."

"What happened?"

"We hired a private detective and he found her. She really seemed like she was trying at first, but then we took her to a party and she got drunk. I saw the way Ryan had to look after her and it broke my heart. He was only 16. She left again the next day. She would have gone without saying goodbye if Ryan hadn't woken up in time. She just left him alone."

"You accepted Ryan into your family at that point?"

"How could I not? He's a good kid. I learnt to love him like he's my own son. I promised I would never let this happen to him again, that I would never leave him the way that she did. And when he came to see me on Sunday, he told me I was just like her. It was the worst thing I could have heard him say."

"It sounds to me like Ryan was speaking emotionally; that he didn't mean what he said."

"But he's right. I'm no better than Dawn. I was supposed to protect him from all this. Life has been so dramatic the past couple of years but I thought that as long as we all stuck together – as a family – we'd be ok. This year everything fell apart, we weren't a family any more. Ryan was right. I broke my promise."

"What happened to Dawn?"

"I don't know, we haven't seen her since," Kirsten said sadly.

"Don't you think that there's a difference between you and Dawn? You're still there in Ryan's life. Even if you're not physically there at the moment, he still knows he can come to you when he needs to. If he didn't trust you, he wouldn't have come back on Sunday."

Dr Halliwell could see that Kirsten wasn't convinced by this argument.

"If I was to tell you that you could leave tomorrow, do you think that would help them?"

Kirsten frowned. "I don't know. I just feel like I could help them more if I was with them, instead of being here."

"By being here, you're getting the help you need. You have a problem, Kirsten, and your family knows that. What use would you be to them if you went home now and couldn't cope? If you reached for the bottle to help you get through it?"

"I guess," Kirsten said vaguely.

"You said it yourself, you need to see your family when _you're_ ready."

Kirsten sighed heavily. "I just wish I was closer to being ready," she said despondently. "I spoke to Sandy on Sunday to tell him that Ryan had been here and I asked him if they were ok, and it was like…I don't know, it was like he was too afraid to tell me everything. Like if he told me the truth, I'd break. I don't want it to be like that."

"Are you worried there's something he's not telling you?"

"No, I trust Sandy enough to know that if there was something I should know, he'd tell me. I just don't believe him when he says they're ok," Kirsten answered.

"How did you feel when were speaking to him?"

"It made me miss him more," Kirsten said, tears glistening in the corners of her eyes.

"Did you speak about your decision not to see them yet?"

Kirsten nodded. "A little. I don't think he really understood why I couldn't see him right now. But he told me that he'd be waiting for me."

Kirsten let out a small sad laugh. "He always knows the right thing to say. I don't know how."

"Maybe because he's been married to you for the past twenty years and he knows the way you think?" Dr Halliwell asked pointedly.

"Yeah," Kirsten smiled.

"What about Seth? Did you speak to him?"

"Yeah. You know, when Julia told me that one of my sons was here, I thought it would be Seth," Kirsten admitted.

"Because he's your genetic son?"

Kirsten shook her head immediately. "No. You know, he probably wouldn't admit it himself, but Seth was always protected growing up. Sandy and I, we always made sure he was safe from the kind of things that Ryan grew up with; and I thought that, after everything he's been through, Ryan would have understood. I guess I was wrong about that."

"How does Seth feel about you being here?"

"He told me he was sorry. He thinks it's his fault I'm here," Kirsten answered.

"Why would he think that?"

"He's a teenager," Kirsten laughed. "For the first sixteen years of his life, he never did anything wrong except use his skateboard in the house. I guess he's trying to fit his teenage rebellion in while he can. He's a good kid really. I told him it was my fault I was here.

"Do you think he believed you?"

"I hope so. I don't want him to blame himself, or Sandy, for me being here," Kirsten said. "I guess I'm finally starting to take responsibility for what has happened."

Dr Halliwell smiled. "You should be pleased with the progress you're making. You still have a long way to go, but you've started off well."

"I just wish I'd been able to tell him that I'd be home soon," Kirsten said wistfully.

"One step at a time, Kirsten, remember that."

"I know. It's just frustrating, you know? I just want to be able to see the end," Kirsten sighed.

"You will."

"But when will that be?" Kirsten asked impatiently.

"When you've been honest with me about everything. You need to learn to accept the mistakes you've made, so that you can pick yourself up and keep going. We still have so much more to talk about. But I need you to understand that these counselling sessions won't fix everything. I want us to start talking about your family and it's going to bring up a lot of issues. Talking to me isn't going to be enough – you're going to _have_ to talk to Sandy, Seth and Ryan too, or you'll never reach the final stage. I know the thought of seeing them scares you, but it's an important and necessary part of rehabilitation. You'll have to do it if you want to go home."

Kirsten nodded, understanding the gravity of her words. Facing her family was inevitable.

"Let's leave this session here. We'll talk again on Friday."

"Thank you," Kirsten said, grateful for the end of the session. She had wanted this counselling session and it had worked its purpose, giving her some perspective on Sunday's events. But each session took its toll and she found herself tired again.

Kirsten left Dr Halliwell's room and made her way back to her room. She was surprised to see a bunch of flowers waiting for her on her bed. Frowning curiously, she wandered over to them, picking out the card that was lodged inside. She recognised Sandy's handwriting immediately.

_A little something to tell you that that we're thinking of you, that we miss you and that we're so very proud of you._

Kirsten's eyes filled with tears as, underneath, she saw Sandy's name, Seth's scribbled signature and – in the corner – Ryan's handwriting where he too had signed it. Smiling through her tears, Kirsten picked up the flowers and placed them in the empty vase that had looked so lonely in her room since she had arrived. The flowers brightened her room straight away, bringing colour to her surroundings. She sat down on her bed, pushing herself backwards until her back rested against the wall. She looked down at the card which was held firmly in her hand and read it over and over again. Each word filled her with hope that the end would not be too far away; and she would get there.

One step at a time.


	12. Faith

**Thank you to everyone who has been leaving reviews/comments – they mean so much to me. **

**I'm sorry that the updates are so sporadic, real life is so busy these days I don't have as much time as I'd like to update. **

**Thank you to Sunny for beta-ing for me. The final version of this chapter wasn't beta'd before she went on her hols, so I take full responsibility for any mistakes!**

* * *

Kirsten's eyes had barely drifted from the colourful flowers that now decorated her room. When they did, they would drop to her hands which still held the note that had accompanied them. She had grasped those few words as she slept, her dreams filled with a montage of her happiest memories. No nightmares, no fighting, no sadness.

The card in her left hand and a pen in her right, she lay across her bed on her stomach. In front of her, her journal lay open. She still had trouble filling it with words and instead it was covered in sketches and doodles. As she stared at the flowers, picturing her family in her head and wondering what they were doing at that moment, she was interrupted by a familiar voice.

"Someone's popular."

Kirsten looked up to see Mark stood at the door.

"Hi Mark," Kirsten greeted him warmly.

She pushed herself up to sitting, gesturing him into the room. Mark came in and sat on the chair in the corner of the room.

"From your family?" he asked.

Kirsten nodded.

"Have they been to visit you yet?" Mark asked. "You've passed the two week probationary period."

"No. I, uh…I'm taking my time over that one," Kirsten said cautiously.

Mark had a way of making her feel guilty without trying, knowing that she was pushing her family away while he longed to have his back.

Mark smiled, understanding. "So, what are your plans for today?"

Kirsten gave him a curious look, intrigued by his jovial mood. "I don't have any plans."

"Good," Mark announced, standing up from his chair and walking over to the bed. He noticed the scribbles in her journal in front of her, raising his eyebrows in surprise. "Did you draw these?"

"Oh, yeah, they're just silly things," Kirsten dismissed.

"Can I see?" Mark asked.

"Um, sure," Kirsten said, passing him the journal.

Mark flicked through the pages, impressed by her drawings. "These are really good. You're quite an artist."

"I used to be," Kirsten answered, a hint of nostalgia in her voice. "I guess I needed something to fill all the free time I have here."

"You know they have art classes here? You should join," Mark commented, handing back the journal.

"I know. I've thought about it, I just…"

"Haven't found the courage to join in yet?" Mark finished.

"Something like that," Kirsten smiled, grateful at having someone understand her so easily.

"Well, we can change that. Come on," Mark said, grabbing her wrist and pulling her up gently from the bed.

"Where are we going?" Kirsten asked.

"You'll see."

* * *

Nearly two hours later, Mark stood beside Kirsten, his head tilted to one side and an amused expression on his face.

"That's quite…_something_ that you've created."

Kirsten rolled her eyes. "I told you I was out of practice."

"I wish I'd listened to you," Mark said.

Kirsten glared at him, nudging him with her elbow as she held her dirty hands out in front of her.

Bending forwards, Mark carefully poked his finger at Kirsten's creation. The soufflé deflated, a pocket of air escaping from inside and leaving a gooey mess on the table. His finger flinched backwards, before he dissolved into a fit of giggles.

"What did you do that for?" Kirsten asked indignantly.

"You're not blaming _me_ for ruining this?" Mark laughed.

"I warned you I wasn't a good cook," Kirsten murmured, pulling her apron off.

"Ok, ok, I'm sorry," Mark apologised, failing as he tried to hide his grin.

"So where did you learn to cook anyway?" Kirsten asked.

"My mom," Mark answered. He noticed Kirsten's surprised expression. "My parents weren't always unreasonable bigots. Before I told them I was gay, we were pretty close. When I was growing up, every Sunday was a family day. My grandparents would come round, my aunts and uncles, my cousins. I would always spend the weekend helping my mom prepare the food. It was like a tradition that just the two of us shared."

Kirsten nodded, understanding how the simplest task could bring a mother and child closer together.

"Have you ever thought about calling them from here and asking them to visit? Maybe they'd want to make amends if they knew what you'd been through," Kirsten suggested.

Mark laughed sadly at her naivety. "I don't think my parents would be any more enthused to see me if they found out I was a drunk who was locked up in rehab."

"You're not a _drunk_," Kirsten scolded lightly and Mark chuckled.

Kirsten didn't say anything more about it. She didn't feel it was her place to pressure him. She knew how it felt to have someone telling you the right, or wrong, thing to do. They slipped into a more casual conversation, cleaning up the mess that Kirsten had created in the kitchen. She was glad to have him as a friend in rehab – it was simple and uncomplicated. He understood what she was going through and she knew that he didn't judge her for her mistakes. Living in Newport, Kirsten had felt constantly judged; every move, every decision was watched by her neighbours. The pressure had weighed on her shoulders every day since she was old enough to understand the world she lived in. It was a pressure that had eventually made her crack.

The only person who had ever lifted that burden was Sandy. When she had met him, he had taught her to be free. No-one else could have convinced her to pack up and travel the country in the back of a mail truck, or backpack through Europe living off whatever money they could scrape together through any job they could get, or settle down in a house that was falling apart with a promise that he would fix it up. He had changed her life and taken her in a different direction. No-one else could have done that except Sandy Cohen.

But where had he been when life had taken an unexpected turn and she had ended up at rehab? This was a direction that Kirsten had not expected to take, but she was here – and sometimes, she felt herself blaming Sandy: for leaving her, for not seeing it sooner, for not stopping her from repeating her mother's mistakes. She knew it was unfair. _She_ had filled her glass with vodka, not Sandy; _she_ had hidden the bottle in her bag, not Sandy; _she_ had got behind the wheel of the car when drunk, not Sandy.

Of all the things she knew she had to talk about in counselling, Kirsten feared talking about her marriage the most. She had always had faith in her marriage, believing that she would always be able to depend on it to get her through whatever life threw at her. It was when that faith had been taken away from her that Kirsten had found herself stumbling.

What if she couldn't get that faith back?

What if her counselling sessions made her realise that she could never recover the marriage that had been her rock for the past 20 years?

What if picking apart all the problems made her realise that it was too late to piece it back together again?

These thoughts plagued her mind over the next few days, knowing that in the timeline of her life, she would soon be talking about Sandy. She arrived at her next counselling session feeling apprehensive. She knew she would have no choice; she knew how important it was to talk about Sandy and her marriage, especially everything that had taken its toll over the past couple of years. The good memories would come easy; the bad memories would be hard.

"Good morning, Kirsten," Dr Halliwell greeted her lightly when Kirsten entered the room.

"Hi," Kirsten replied.

"How are you today? How are you coping with your withdrawal symptoms?"

Kirsten was surprised by the question. They rarely spoke about the physical side effects of rehab.

"I'm ok. Some days I can get through and not feel anything; other days, I still feel sick or my hands will shake," Kirsten answered.

Dr Halliwell nodded. "And how are you sleeping?"

"Better than I was. I kept having nightmares or my dreams would be so jumbled, they didn't make sense – at least, not to me," Kirsten admitted.

"And now? Are you still having nightmares?"

"Sometimes," Kirsten said.

"Are you using your journal to record your dreams? You might find that helps you to explain why you're having those dreams, or nightmares; or find a pattern to your dreams."

Kirsten blushed. "I've tried to write in the journal, but …I don't know, I can't seem to find the words."

"But you're doing well in our sessions. I think you have a lot to say."

"I know," Kirsten agreed. "But it's like there's too much in my head to write down. In counselling, at least I have some direction – you ask the questions, and I answer them."

"I understand," Dr Halliwell smiled gently. "Let's get started then, shall we?"

Kirsten nodded. Dr Halliwell leaned back in her chair, her pen in her hand and her notebook in front of her.

"We've already talked about your abortion – that was in your first year at Berkeley. Did you ever think about leaving after the abortion, to start again?"

Kirsten shook her head. "No, it never entered my mind to leave. I loved that college, it taught me so much about myself and about life," she mused.

"But you felt pressure from your friends there? You told me that was why you felt like you had to sleep with someone you barely knew."

"I did, at first. But things changed after my first year. _I_ changed and my friends changed. I guess I threw myself into my studies in my second year too, I didn't want to get into that situation again," Kirsten said.

"But you told me that you kept drinking after the abortion, until you met Sandy?"

"But I didn't really go to parties. I kept to myself and I did my drinking in private. It quelled the loneliness, I guess," Kirsten answered.

"Did your drinking ever worry you then?"

Kirsten shook her head, no. "I didn't really think about it then. I just knew that I wanted to just get on with my studies and forget about everything else. When I met Sandy, I didn't want to hide from life any more. He gave me a new life."

"When did you meet him?"

"At the start of my third year," Kirsten answered, smiling at the memory. "It was a blind date. My flatmate was dating one of his friends, and they thought it would be a good idea to set us up. I don't know why, we were so different, I don't know how they knew it would work. It almost didn't!"

"What do you mean?"

Kirsten laughed. "They set us up at Halloween. I didn't really want to go and I almost cancelled, but my flatmate convinced me that it would be a good idea. All I knew about him was that he was a Jewish, surf-loving law student from New York who lived in the back of a mail truck and loved to get involved in political activities – very different to the guys I knew at home. He turned up late and hadn't bought a costume, so he'd come up with the idea of putting a paper bag over his head. I opened the door to him and didn't know what to think, except that it was going to be a bad date!"

"But he proved you wrong?"

Kirsten nodded. "It took a while. I kept asking him to take off the paper bag and he kept refusing. All I could hear was this quiet chuckle from underneath, it was driving me crazy! And then, when he finally took the bag off his head, he just swept me away. He has the most beautiful eyes I've ever seen, they're so big and they really _see_ you. And he turned out to be pretty charming."

"The date must have ended well if you agreed to a second one?"

Kirsten smiled. "He knew that I didn't really want to be at the party, so he offered to walk me home. It was then that we really started talking. He was so easy to talk to and nothing like the person I thought he was. He really surprised me – he was funny and kind and sweet. I've never let my guard down with anyone as quickly as I did with Sandy. We ended up stopping for coffee on the way home and we were sat in the café so long that I didn't get home until nearly 4am. My flatmate wanted to know _everything_ but there wasn't anything to tell – he didn't try anything, he was the perfect gentleman. All I got was a kiss on the cheek and a promise to call the next day."

"Did he?"

"Yeah, he did," Kirsten smiled. "We had a second date – and a third, and a fourth, and a fifth. We talked about pretty much everything – our families, our childhoods, our hopes, our dreams. No-one knows as much about me as Sandy does."

"It sounds perfect."

"Oh, believe me, it wasn't always easy. We connected in such a surprising way, but we were so different in our beliefs and the way we viewed life. We would find ourselves arguing over the smallest things – things that seemed so silly the next day," Kirsten remembered. "We could never agree on which restaurant to eat at or which movie to see."

"Did you ever argue about anything big?"

"I guess the biggest thing we argued about was our families. We still do. It's the one thing we've always argued about," Kirsten answered.

"What is it about your families that you argue about?"

Kirsten smiled sadly. "Ever since we got together, it's like we've had to prove _why_ we're together. You know, our backgrounds couldn't be more different; no-one believed we would work and our families just didn't understand. They never approved of us being together. Sandy's mom is a social worker and she hates everything that my family stands for. My dad was one of the most powerful and influential men in Newport, and a Jewish guy from the Bronx with no money was never going to be good enough for him. We fell in love, but that wasn't good enough for them."

"How did you deal with your families' disapproval?"

"We argued about it at first. Sandy has always been comfortable with who he is and my dad's disapproval didn't seem to bother him. That annoyed me at first. I mean, before Sandy there was only Jimmy and my dad loved Jimmy, and I guess I wanted my dad to love Sandy that way too. I wanted my dad to accept him, but he wouldn't; and I wanted Sandy to fight harder to get on with my dad, but he didn't. I had to learn to accept that they would never be friends."

"That must have been hard?"

"It was…until I met the Nana," Kirsten laughed.

"The Nana?"

"Sandy's mom. She _hated_ me – she still does. No matter how hard I tried, nothing I could say or do would get her to like me. So eventually I had to learn to accept that she would never approve of me, and that's when I realised that that's what Sandy had been doing," Kirsten said.

"What about your mother? Did she disapprove of Sandy too?"

"No, she liked him. She told me once that she understood why I'd chosen him, why I'd fallen in love with him," Kirsten smiled.

"When did you know you had fallen in love with Sandy?"

"Hmm," Kirsten leaned back in her chair, drawing her legs up so that they crossed. She had fallen in love with Sandy quickly, she knew that, but could she pinpoint a time when she had realised she loved him?

"Is that a difficult question?"

Kirsten's eyes had glazed as she pondered the question, but they suddenly cleared as a smile spread on her face.

"No," she shook her head. "We'd been dating a couple of months and we were about to go on Christmas break. I was gonna miss him and I decided that I would cook for us, to make it special. I'm not exactly a good cook…"

"I've heard," Dr Halliwell passed comment, smiling at Kirsten.

Kirsten laughed. "Well, growing up in Orange County, you had some to cook for you. I hadn't had much practice. I'd been pretty much living on takeouts since I'd got to Berkeley. I guess I was trying to be too adventurous too soon, because it was a disaster! Everything burned, I broke the blender and I practically ruined the kitchen when the sprinklers came on."

She could see Dr Halliwell stifling a laugh. "How did Sandy react?"

"He…didn't. I mean, he just laughed and said that it didn't matter, that he loved me anyway, even though I couldn't cook, and then he walked away. I don't think he even realised he'd said it, but I wanted to run after him and tell him that I loved him too."

"But you didn't?"

Kirsten shook her head, no.

"Why not?"

"I don't know. I was scared, I guess," Kirsten said.

"Scared of what?"

"Scared that he didn't mean it; scared of jinxing it. I knew I was falling in love with him already and I thought that if I pushed him too quickly, I'd push him away. I mean, what guy wants to be tied down at college?"

"Something tells me Sandy wasn't like that?"

"No, he wasn't," Kirsten smiled. "He…he's just Sandy."

"So when did you first tell him?"

"As soon as I saw him after Christmas break," Kirsten laughed. "It was the longest three weeks of my life. Being apart from him made me realise just how much I'd fallen in love with him. I missed him so much. Being back in Newport made me realise how much I'd changed, I didn't fit there any more – I didn't really fit anywhere without Sandy. I spent the whole holiday counting the days until I could go back to Berkeley."

"What about the physical side to your relationship? How long was it before you were having a sexual relationship?"

Kirsten blushed. She had learnt to be open and honest with Dr Halliwell about most aspects of her life, but talking about her sex life was still something that made her embarrassed.

"It was our third date," Kirsten said shyly, dropping her head.

"That was quick?"

Kirsten shrugged. "It didn't feel quick. It felt…right. Everything felt right with Sandy."

"He was your first sexual partner since the abortion?"

Kirsten nodded.

"But that didn't deter you?"

"No. I mean, I thought about it – of course I did – and I didn't expect it to happen so soon. But I trusted him, he made me feel comfortable. And our relationship was always…passionate."

Dr Halliwell noticed her blush again, becoming flustered, and moved the conversation forward.

"Kirsten, let me ask you this. Did you notice a change in your drinking once you and Sandy started your relationship?"

Kirsten frowned. It wasn't something she had thought about before.

"I guess I stopped drinking alone. I didn't need to any more, I guess I didn't have chance to be alone as much as I was before. Sandy and I spent so much time together," Kirsten said. "And I don't think I felt the same _need_ to drink as I used to. When things got complicated, I had someone to talk to."

"Did you ever find yourself drawn towards drinking? When you and Sandy were fighting, for example?"

"Sometimes. I remember during spring break, I went home because my cousin was getting married. I didn't invite Sandy to come with me, because I knew my father would spend the whole time making snide comments and I didn't want to have to listen to them. Sandy was upset by that – more upset than I thought he would be. We had this massive argument and we left on bad terms. I felt so guilty about hurting him and my dad was putting pressure on me about my post-graduation plans, that I just wanted to escape from it all," Kirsten told her.

"And you escaped at the bottom of a bottle?"

Kirsten nodded. "I stole a bottle of whiskey from the cabinet and snuck it up to my room. It's crazy, I was about half way through the bottle when Sandy called, and by the end of the conversation, I didn't need to drink any more. I guess I should have realised it sooner."

"Realised what?"

"That I was too dependent on him. Is it wrong that I depend so much on one person?"

"Do you think it's wrong?"

"I don't know. Yes?" It was phrased as a question. "I find myself blaming Sandy sometimes. Not for bringing me here, I know that he did the right thing. But I think about the way I feel when I'm with him, and how I feel when I'm not – or when we're arguing, or when we're not quite '_us'_, and it's those times that I find myself drinking. And I blame _him_. For not being there, for making me feel that way. But it's not his fault, is it? I shouldn't depend so much on him to make me happy."

Kirsten rubbed her temples, confused by her feelings.

"There's nothing wrong with loving someone," Dr Halliwell said.

"But can you love someone too much?" Kirsten questioned.

"No, I don't think so," Dr Halliwell said. "The question you should be asking yourself, Kirsten, is why you don't love _yourself_ enough to stop you from reaching for that bottle. It's not because you depend on Sandy – or anyone else – too much; it's because you don't depend on yourself."

"But I feel like I've become lost. I feel like I don't know who I am any more," Kirsten sighed. "I'm not strong enough to exist on my own."

Dr Halliwell leaned forward in her chair, resting her arms on the table. "Kirsten, you're so much stronger than you realise. I've seen it, in this room, during these counselling sessions. What's it going to take to make _you_ see that?"

"I don't know," Kirsten shrugged.

Dr Halliwell paused for a moment. "Kirsten, I have a task for you. I'm going to end this session here and before we next meet, I want you to use your journal."

She saw Kirsten's face fill with scepticism.

"Trust me," Dr Halliwell assured her. "First, I want you to think back to when you first arrived here four weeks ago and try to remember how you felt during your first week; I want you to list all the feelings you were experiencing. Then, I want you to think about everything you're feeling now and write that down."

"Why?" Kirsten asked curiously.

"Because I want you to see for yourself how far you've already come. I can tell you, but I know that you don't believe me. I hope that seeing it written down in black and white will help convince you," Dr Halliwell explained.

Kirsten nodded slowly, understanding her task. She felt strangely nervous about it. When she had arrived at rehab, she had been in a dark place; a place that she never wanted to return to. And now Dr Halliwell was asking her to go back to those feelings.

"But…but what if…" she didn't dare ask the question.

"It won't," Dr Halliwell answered, knowing her fears. "You're stronger than that. And by taking you back to those feelings that you had, I hope that you will understand how different you are now."

Her session ended and Kirsten wandered slowly back to her room. She followed a route which took her outside and she inhaled the fresh air deeply. Maybe Dr Halliwell was right, maybe she had changed. She knew that she felt more positive about her recovery and she was learning to believe in the rehabilitation process, but she was still learning to believe in herself. After everything that life had thrown at her recently and realising that she had tried to hide from her problems using alcohol, it was difficult for Kirsten to find the inspiration from within herself. She used her family – her husband, her sons – to give her the strength she needed to get better; she _depended_ on them to get her through this. She knew that Dr Halliwell was right: she needed to learn to depend on herself to get better.

When she arrived at her room, Kirsten grabbed her journal and curled up on the windowsill which stared out over the grounds. She turned her attention immediately to the task she had been set – always the model student. Procrastinating was not a quality that Kirsten Cohen possessed. The pen in her hand, she stared at the blank page in front of her.

She sighed, wondering how she was going to fill the page.


End file.
